


look into my eyes (tell me no lies)

by neverazombie



Series: Sentinel!AU [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Scent Kink, Size Kink, guide!Jaskier, no beta we die like men, sentinel!Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverazombie/pseuds/neverazombie
Summary: “Let’s not examine - so I’m just to sit here on your lap while you have a think? Have a little noodle on what to do next while I’m just casually straddling your massive, naked thighs? Hmmmmmm?”A Sentinel/Guide AU because...just because, okay guys?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Sentinel!AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617001
Comments: 145
Kudos: 2806
Collections: Fave Stories of Queixo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I played myself on this one. Threw up a post last night on the ol' tumblr pondering this very concept, and now fucking almost 8K later here we are. Someone else should definitely come along and do it better though, okay? Okay.

Geralt took a deep pull from his ale and sank further into the splintered and cracked bench he was seated on. If he were the type of man to display any outward sign of content, he might have closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, enjoying the moment of simple peace. The sounds of the pub around him were quieter than usual, the townspeople mostly ignoring the presence of the witcher. He’d take indifference over outright hatred any day. 

And then, as always with his shit streak of luck, the moment was broken as a man sat down across from him, setting down two ales between them on the scarred table. 

An uncommonly attractive man gazed back at him, sitting far back against the bench with an open and non-aggressive posture. Geralt did not immediately reach for his hilt. 

“Witcher.”

Geralt hmmed expectantly, downing the rest of his ale and made to stand up.

“We have a friend in common, Geralt of Rivia. Perhaps you recall crossing paths with Yennefer of Vengeberg recently?”

Geralt let his weight fall heavily back onto the bench and sneered at the man.

“Didn’t think Yen had friends. Just those she used, or those who got in her way.”

“Well, then let’s say I’m one of the former. My name is Istredd.”

“A Ban Ard boy, then? I think our business is concluded here.”

Geralt rose out of his seat and took two steps towards the door. Istredd caught him by the forearm with a surprisingly strong grip. Geralt ripped out of his grasp sharply and caught him by the wrist in turn.

“Touch me again and I will take the limb as payment.”

He let go and Istredd lifted both arms, palms forward and shrugging.

“I meant no offence, Witcher, but there is a conversation I would very much like to have with you, and I will pay you handsomely for your time. It has nothing to do with our mutual friend, if that makes a difference.”

The offer of payment makes Geralt pause against his own better judgement. Istredd slid the second ale across the table, towards Geralt. 

“Hmm.”

He sat back down and lifted the ale. 

“You have until I finish this. Talk.”

“And I imagine you’re quite the accomplished drinker. Well then, to make a long story short, my focus as a mage has long been looking back into our history, and the history of the Continent. During one of my recent excavations, I came across some rather interesting artifacts that seem to give a whole new perspective on you Witchers.”

Geralt put down the ale, now three quarters empty, and simply stared blankly at Istredd. The man across from him smiled warmly, as if more amused than offended, and reached to his belt to take a heavy coin purse and toss it onto the table next to Geralt’s ale. It was a heavy sound of clanking gold. One small corner of Geralt’s lips twitched upwards, and he exaggeratedly took an incredibly small sip of the remaining drink.

“Tell me Geralt, during your training at Kaer Morhen, did you ever come across the term ‘sentinel’?”

Kaer Morhen would be a sore subject for any Witcher, but perhaps especially so for Geralt. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. Took a larger drink of ale. 

“Yes, well, I suppose that doesn’t surprise me. And you probably completed the Trial of the Grasses well before you would have awakened…”

Istredd trailed off and sat in an easy, contemplative silence for a moment. 

Geralt finished the ale and pointedly set the flagon down firmly. 

“If that’s all…?” 

He fisted the coin purse and tucked it underneath his own on his side.

“I can see it will take more than ale and coin to open your lips.”

Istredd smiled sharply before continuing. 

“Perhaps our paths will cross again tomorrow, and you will be in more of a conversational mood.”

Geralt’s hackles were immediately risen at his tone and the, frankly, bold insult, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“Til we next meet, Witcher.”

And with that, Istredd made his way quickly out the door into the night. 

Geralt continued to stand next to the table, an incredibly vast sense of unease settling over him. The longer he stood, the more the other patrons of the pub put effort into avoiding his general direction. 

He finished weighing his options and made towards the door to follow the man. As he opened the door with an excessive amount of force, the body on the other side was propelled directly into him. 

“Geralt!”

It was Jaskier.

“Hmm.”

He steadied the other man and shifted him off to the side so that he could continue his pursuit. 

“And now where are we off to in such a rush? I don’t recall there being a single point of interest in this entire town!”

Ignoring him, Geralt surveyed the area, looking for a trace of the mage. 

Fuck. Nothing. Must have portalled out. A smarter man than he seemed, then. 

“Geralt, whatever has got you all worked up can surely be resolved in the morning. I’ve secured us a room at the only decent inn in this tumbleweed of a village. And though I hate to say it, no signs yet of any possible jobs for your type, so coin will be quite low after this stay.”

Geralt turned towards him and reached to his waist to gather the coin he had just earned. He tossed it to Jaskier uncaringly. Jaskier bobbled the purse as he tried to get a good grip on it. 

“I am gobsmacked, Geralt, how the hell did you come across this? Have you been holding out on me, witcher?!”

Geralt gave him an especially toothy grin.

“Earned it just now. By having a conversation.”

Jaskier choked on his own laughter.

“Well that’s a load of horseshit if I ever heard it. But keep your secrets, I don’t truly care where it came from as long as it means better food and better lodgings! You know, this wouldn’t make a terribly engaging song, but it might make for a good limerick. Geralt of Rivia, ne’er to be blessed with gold / except for what earned by profession of old / killing beasts with a stick / saving queens with a trick / or pleasing a woman with his huge Witcher -”

Geralt slapped a hand over Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.”

He felt Jaskier’s mouth curl into a devious grin underneath his hand. He held it there for another moment to make his point, and then let go with a gentle slap against the bard’s cheek.

“Lead the way to the inn.”

\---

Geralt had expected sleep to be hard to find with his sense of paranoia so finely aroused, but it came easily enough. Jaskier’s never-ending stream of consciousness served as a decent lullaby most nights, and the bard had been in rare form that evening. 

Hours passed quietly as the men slept.

And then, in the smallest hours of the night, Geralt began shifting restlessly in his bed. The unusual amount of noise from his companion woke Jaskier, and he looked concernedly into the dark across the room in the direction of the witcher. A night terror, he thought sadly. They didn’t happen very frequently, but Jaskier had seen a few in his years spent bedding down next to Geralt. 

Not wanting to disturb him, but not able to let the man continue to suffer, Jaskier slipped out from under his covers to gingerly make his way over to the pitcher of water near the door. He wouldn’t risk waking Geralt, for the man was likely to try and take his head off if awoken suddenly, but perhaps he could leave a glass of water nearby for when he rose to take the edge off. 

As he neared Geralt’s bed, he realized he could hear the sound of heavily grinding teeth, and the sheets being torn in his hands. Jaskier shifted his weight back and forth, wondering if there wasn’t in fact a safe way to rouse his friend. He took a few steps closer to the side of the bed, not being able to see it but feeling along the side of the straw mattress to judge the distance. The entire mattress felt warm, and damp with sweat. Geralt’s thrashing grew more pronounced. Jaskier was at a loss, he felt a soul-deep need to help the man in any way that he could. He felt an odd sensation at the base of his neck, one that he had only felt a few times before in his life when faced with a desperate need. He reached out his hand towards what he was guessing was Geralt’s shin, when the man startled him with a loud growl ripping out of his throat. Jaskier sloshed the water in the glass he was holding and it splashed down onto the sleeping man. 

Geralt bolted upright, ripping the sheet off of him and half rolling, half leaping out of the bed. The moment his feet touched the rough wooden floor, he exhaled sharply, a sound more commonly heard after he had been stabbed or worse by a monster. Seconds later, he clasped both hands around his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hunching over like a wounded animal.

Jaskier jumped back away from the vague, dark form and dropped the glass of water. Though he couldn’t see Geralt too clearly, he could tell the man flinched at the moment the glass impacted the floor. He’d never see the man react this way to anything, even the most serious of wounds. 

Biting back an overwhelming amount of worry, he hesitantly called out.

\---

“Geralt?”

Geralt’s world was on fire. It was on fire, it was drowning him, freezing over him, even the very air itself was clawing at his skin. Every sensation was like knives and needles against him, every sound like the loudest thunder or the shrillest screech. The low light of the room may as well have been midday sun out in the desert. The smells, the sheer variety and strength of each smell was enough to make his head explode - the scents of humans living in their own filth, the animals, the decaying food in the kitchens below…

It felt like it was all building, building, building endlessly, and there was only so much more he could take. Geralt had experienced pain of which many could never even comprehend and this far surpassed every wound in battle, every trial in Kaer Morhen, even the soul wrenching pain of being abandoned on an empty road…

An end was coming. What sort of end, he couldn’t tell, but he could feel deep down that it was a true end. Not just darkness to take him after the end of consciousness, but a great gaping chasm of nothingness… and he felt fear. For the first time in decades, the sensation gripped his whole body. And fear was only the first thing to come back… he felt every emotion he had ever had suppressed form a tidal wave, racing down at him. He would drown, burn, fade and there was nothing to hold it all back…

Until…

“Geralt?”

\---  
Jaskier held his breath immediately after saying the man’s name. Geralt froze, no sound, no movement from his direction. The stillness dragged out for an unbearable amount of time.

A soft wooshing sound, and the four candles in the room lit up.

Jaskier could see Geralt crouched in a ball, almost on all fours on the rough inn floor, not moving save for taking some very shallow breaths. 

The sensation at the base of his neck expanded, his whole brain feeling like it’s getting heavier by the second. The pressure was insistent.

Not quite ready to reach out, Jaskier crouched down an arm’s length away from Geralt and fell back on what he knew.

“Geralt, are you alright? I’ve never seen you like this, and I’ll be quite happy to never see you this way again if I can be honest. Is it some sort of magic? Some spell that’s been cast upon you? ...Geralt?”

He fell back into silence, unsure of what to try next.

“Don’t…”

Geralt’s voice sounded hoarse, as if he had spent hours screaming and screaming without end.

“Don’t… what? Don’t talk, is it? “Shut up, Jaskier, your incessant chatter is only making my incredible manpain worse?” Is that it?”

“Don’t… stop talking.”

“Geralt, I understand that something is very clearly seriously wrong with you but I can’t help if you don’t make any sense. Shut up or no? What shall I do?”

“Keep talking, bard, if you want to live to see the morning.”

Jaskier was… shocked into silence. Unhelpfully.

“Well, I… how is it that you manage to ask for help and threaten me in the same breath? You are entirely full of shit, Geralt! Here I am, already risking my neck to help your unstable ass and all you can do is - oh -”

Geralt abruptly stood up and he was...very naked. Though Jaskier frequently saw this sight, for some reason it made him pause. 

“How about we find you some clothes and then sit and talk about this like adults? I can get you some more water and we can figure out what’s happened…”

Jaskier turned to the door.

“Don’t! Don’t… leave. Stay...close… to me.”

Every word sounded like it was being forced out of Geralt against his own will, but Jaskier could feel the truth of it beneath the words. He turned to face the man again. 

Geralt looked completely drained of life, as if he had fought an entire army of drowners, followed by a pack of wargs and then a horde of dragons. He sat heavily on the edge of his bed and buried his head in his hands.

Jaskier was compelled to go to him, both consciously and unconsciously. He sat down next to Geralt, leaving a few inches of space between their thighs. 

“What did I say about talking, Jaskier?”

Geralt said it with the vaguest sense of humor, and Jaskier let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“I hope you remember this moment, Geralt, because I know I will. The time that you admit that you DO in fact love my voice, and that I am indeed the greatest bard you have ever known slash will ever know. Now, is there anything I can do to help you with...whatever is going on?”

Geralt didn’t change position, but his shoulders sagged a little more. 

“I don’t exactly know what’s happening. I feel… I feel.”

“You feel…. What? Angry? Excited? Tired? What do you fe- OH, you feel? How is that possible?”

“Not sure, but if I were a gambling man I’d say it has to do with that mage from earlier.”

“What mage from earlier?! Wait, is that where you got the coin? Could it be the coin that’s cursed somehow to affect your witcherly ways?!”

“Hmm. That’s not a bad thought, Jaskier. Bring the purse over?”

Jaskier immediately hopped off towards his clothes to rifle through for the coin. Finding it quickly, he handed it over to Geralt, who had lifted his head up to look at him. His pupils had almost swallowed up the gold of his irises, as if experiencing an overwhelming amount of input from his surroundings. He reached out one hand to take the purse, and as Jaskier dropped it into his hand, their fingers brushed. Barely. 

But it was enough. 

Jaskier blindly reached for Geralt as light exploded behind his eyelids, and he felt the man in return grasping his arm and yanking him in. They collided heavily, but neither moved away, only moved to try and press further into each other, looking for as much contact as possible. 

The coin purse fell to the floor, coins spilling out and scattering in every direction as Jaskier pushed at Geralt’s limbs in an attempt to climb into his lap. Geralt pulled the man into his chest, wrapping his arms around him with all his strength. The frenzy of movement stopped as suddenly as it started, both men breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. 

For a heartbeat, silence. Then, Jaskier.

“Uh, hello. Hi. This is new! Not, not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I certainly haven’t felt an impulse like that that strongly since the last time yo-WELL what I mean is that I’m not sure that was a totally normal thing to happen. Right? Am I right?”

Geralt took a long, deep inhale, and let out a long, deep exhale. 

“Something is incredibly...not right. But I do feel better than I did upon waking, so let’s not examine this too much.”

“Let’s not examine - so I’m just to sit here on your lap while you have a think? Have a little noodle on what to do next while I’m just casually straddling your massive, naked thighs? Hmmmmmm?”

Geralt moved his forehead away so that Jaskier has a full view of him rolling his eyes at him. They were both still tightly clutching at each other, but seeing Geralt’s normal level of exasperation calmed Jaskier a bit. 

“Right. Okay, right. So do we test the coin for magic? How do we test the coin for magic? Geralt, you’re wincing again. Is this another moment where you’d like me to shut up and/or not shut up?

“No, I just...things are getting loud again. Too loud.”

Without too much thought towards it, Jaskier brought his hands up to massage at Geralt’s temples. Geralt’s face smoothed out and he leaned heavily towards Jaskier. Who was… still straddling the man. 

“You know, I think I’m just going to go get that water I was going to get a millenia ago when this conversation started, so if I just-”

He trailed off as he moved to slide back to his feet. Geralt immediately latched on to his waist with both hands and stopped the movement.

“No.”

“”No” he says. Okay then, Geralt, what shall I do? How will we get ourselves out of this one?”

No response.

“Oh, and now he chooses to go silent and brooding again. Yes, perfect timing Geralt, let’s all be mysterious and shady about whatever the hell is happening here.”

Despite his words to the contrary, Jaskier stayed put. Not that he really could have moved if he wanted to, anyways. 

“Something’s not right...in my head.”

Jaskier waited a beat. 

“With an opener like that… Geralt, how many jokes do you think I can make in the next few moments. Give me a second here to get them all organized by level of obviousness, and then I’ll give it a go-”

“Jaskier. Understand that even though you are helping now, I will still hurt you.”

And to prove his point, he pinched Jaskier’s side.

“Rude! So rude, Geralt! Be gentle with me!”

Huffing softly, Geralt leans in and knocks his forehead against Jaskier’s chest a few times. 

“I don’t think it can be the coin. For something to affect me, like this, I would have had to ingest it… the ale.” 

“That mage slipped something in your drink, did he? Not much of a gentleman, then. But I thought you were immune to all poisons? With your strong, witcherly constitution?”

“I am, but I guess if this was a magic poison, or just a potion of some kind, it could affect me with a powerful enough spell behind it.”

“And this mage, couldn’t happen to have been working for a familiar sorceress, could he? One Yennefer of Vengeberg, perhaps? Seems like the type of foul magic she would do.”

“Jaskier, I know you don’t like Yen, but this isn’t her. She and I have...an understanding, and there’s no gain right now for her to kill me.”

“”An understanding?” Yes, I know, I’ve walked in on that understanding enough times to know, thank you. And it’s not like this is killing you, is it? Something else is happening.”

“It must be something to do with that mage, Istredd, and whatever nonsense he was bleating about the history of Witchers.”

Jaskier grabbed both sides of Geralt’s head and pulled it back so he could look straight into his eyes. 

“Geralt, you are not this dull, I know that for a fact. I saw you in Calanthe’s court, playing the diplomat and the charmer when you had to. OF COURSE this has something to do with that. Did this Istredd say anything else?”

He let go of Geralt’s head and awkwardly let his hands flop around back down onto his shoulders, not quite sure where else to put them. He was still just...sitting in this man’s lap.

“He didn’t say much-”

“More like you didn’t let him say much-”

“Yes, thank you Jaskier. He didn’t say much, but he did ask about my training, and specifically the final trial before becoming a Witcher.”

“Wait! Before you go on, let me get my quill and parchment, you never give me any of this kind of detail, and I may never get a chance again-”

“Jaskier!”

Geralt’s tone was firm, but this close Jaskier could see the fond upward lilt of his lips. This much expression was already miles away from normal, but Jaskier couldn’t help but like the change. He could always feel somewhere inside that Geralt liked him well enough, but seeing it plainly on his face was a reward unto itself.

“Yes, alright, another time then. Go on.”

“It’s like whatever he gave me, undid some of what the trials had done. The purge of the emotions, the control of the senses, it’s all been...dissolved somehow.”

Jaskier bit his lip, almost afraid to ask.

“Does it feel...permanent?”

Geralt frowned.

“Not if I manage to catch that mage. I think, maybe, in the meantime, we should leave this town. It might be safer to be out away from all these people while I’m dealing with this.”

“That sounds sensible. I’ll go ahead and-”

There was an enormous crash below them as the front door to the inn was thrown wildly open. A frantic voice cried out, “Rotfiend! Out by the Chalmer’s home! Where is that Witcher?!”

The noise badly affected Geralt, who shoved Jaskier off of him to cover his own ears as he let out a pained groan. He fell back onto the bed proper and curled protectively around himself. 

“Geralt!”

Jaskier surged off the ground to go to the man, but was stopped by a pounding on their door. The innkeeper called angrily through the wood.

“Witcher! Wake up and take care o’ this! We’ll pay ye, jes’ get a move on!”

Jaskier opened the door just far enough to look at the innkeeper.

“Yes, yes, alright, we’re on our way out!”

He snarled and slammed the door in the man’s face, whirling around to check in on his witcher.

The man was not in a good state, but Jaskier was not an entirely unobservant man. Soft spoken words and a soft touch had done the job before, and he hoped they would do it again. The pulsing in his head steadily grew.

He approached the bed and gently laid his hand on one of Geralt’s bare ankles.

“Geralt, we need to help these people. You need to help these people. What can I do to help you?”

Geralt relaxed slightly, and nodded through gritted teeth to acknowledge that he had heard Jaskier. Jaskier noticed he had gone from holding the man’s ankle to gently stroking up and down his calf, and forced his hand to stop. 

“Get me my armor. And my swords.”

\--- 

Though it had taken longer than normal, Geralt and Jaskier exited the inn at a run to find where ever the Rotfiend had come upon the village. There was no shortage of villagers out and about now to shout at them and point them in the direction of the necrophage. Jaskier tried to stay close and kept an eye on Geralt as the man’s eyes squinted in pain at the sounds, sights and smells of a terrified village. 

Geralt knew they were close far sooner than normal, even with his standard enhanced senses. The smell was incredibly foul and he almost gagged from the stench. As soon as it came into plain view, he halted his sprint and put an arm out to catch Jaskier.

“Stay here.”

“I mean, you don’t need to ask me twice, but are you sure? If my being close helps with, you know, the thing that is currently going on, maybe I should stay a little closer than normal.”

Geralt growled, both out of pain and impatience.

“Jaskier, I don’t have time for this. It’s one solitary Rotfiend, and I cannot risk you getting injured. Stay. Here.”

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times out of surprise at the plainness of Geralt’s sentence and watched the man take off running towards the creature. 

Truth be told, Geralt felt far less confident in his capability to take on anything beyond a simple wolf or arachnas at this very moment, but he wasn’t going to let anyone else know that.

Jaskier harrumphed where he stood, feeling somehow Geralt’s apprehension running into this battle. 

With only a dozen yards between him and the Rotfiend, the creature seemed to pause and turn it’s eyeless face directly at Geralt. Instead of disappearing, as it typically might when facing a threat, it let out an awful shriek and suddenly five more of its friends appeared out of the darkness to join it. 

“Fuck.”

It was too late to try and find whatever mass grave had attracted the creatures, and too late to try and run and give himself some distance to formulate a plan. 

The sounds of their rotting flesh and the horrific scent were pushing Geralt towards that brink he had felt earlier, that gaping chasm…

“Geralt! Heads up!”

He saw out of the corner of his eye Jaskier, much closer than he had left him, lobbing what looked like was one of Geralt’s bombs towards the mass of Rotfiends. Using every ounce of his enhanced reflexes, he threw himself in the opposite direction of the creatures. Turning his back to the explosion, he hastily signalled at Jaskier to return the direction he had come from. Jaskier shook his head stubbornly and planted his feet. 

When he whirled to face the remaining fiends, he saw he had only had two left to contend with, but the noxious gases released by the dead fiends overwhelmed him and he heaved heavily, folding over from the power of the revulsion. One of the remaining took the opportunity to clamber onto Geralt’s back, rotting hands going for his throat. Collecting himself, and ignoring Jaskier calling his name, he threw the creature off of him and in one movement, unsheathed his sword and removed it’s head from its body. 

That left only one.

Who, of course, had decided that Jaskier looked an appealing enough target and was pursuing the man doggedly. 

Panic. That was an emotion Geralt could at first not place, but then felt with all the bluntness of a door shut in his face. 

He wildly took off sprinting after the pair, all his senses zeroing in on Jaskier. He could see, smell, taste, hear and feel the man’s fear and it was beyond description. 

Jaskier was putting up a good chase, dodging around trees and a broken down wagon to put obstacles between him and his pursuer, but Rotfiends were fast little shits, and not as stupid as they looked. It managed to grab the back of Jaskier’s coat and yank him towards the ground. Jaskier kicked out immediately, forcing the fiend to take a step back, and rolled to his feet to begin running again. This bought just enough time for Geralt to catch up to him. The creature grasped Jaskier again, this time firmly by the shoulder, but Geralt was close enough to sever the limb at the elbow. Jaskier was thrown forward by the force of his own resistance, and Geralt faced the Rotfiend properly, putting a boot in the center of it’s chest and forcing it backward. Once it was in swinging range, he struck at it with his sword, cursing as it dodged quickly out of the way and hopped further out of the way. 

Despite being engaged in a battle, his senses were still firmly zoned in on Jaskier, and could feel the man’s fear mixed with relief as Geralt stood surely between him and the fiend. 

Distantly, Geralt could hear the approach of the villagers, as they seemed to think the battle was largely won. 

With just a few swift strokes of his sword, he sent the other arm and the head of the creature flying in opposite directions of the body. He barely had a moment to breathe in relief when he realized the innkeeper was running towards them...with a lit torch.

Knowing the torch would ignite the fumes from the now dead Rotfiend, Geralt moved without even thinking and leapt for Jaskier, covering him with his body as the gases caught fire and immolated the innkeeper. The only thought in his head was to keep the man under him safe.

He could feel Jaskier screaming more than hear it, as his senses were now consumed with the burning sensation he could feel through his armor. He felt the man’s breath against his lips as he panted. He could see the man’s eyes squeezed shut out of fear. He felt the man’s hands flail around until they grabbed his own, gloved and covered with the viscous remains of the fiends. The flames began to dissipate. One hand slid up, pushing up Geralt’s sleeve and grasping his bare wrist and that was…

\---

Jaskier’s terror was more muted than usual, though his close call with the Rotfiend looking to make him an early breakfast was not ideal, and the almost burning alive… well, he may have been screaming but honestly, it was just reflex at this point. 

Geralt’s bodyweight over him was far more soothing than he ever planned to let the man know, but he needed something more to reassure him they were both okay. Abandoning his hold on the witcher’s hands, he searched for bare skin, something inside him whispering that it was needed contact. 

The second his fingers brushed that skin, he felt every muscle in Geralt’s body tense. 

As the last of the flames died down, Geralt pulled his head slowly back and stared down at Jaskier. They looked at each other silently before Geralt lunged down at him, digging his teeth viciously into the side of Jaskier’s neck while ripping out of Jaskier’s grasp, grabbing his wrists and pinning them both to the ground.

Jaskier didn’t even make a sound. He felt a rush of warm so rapid and so chaotic that he thought perhaps he had caught fire. His head pounded like his brain was trying to escape his skull. One hand rushed to the back of Geralt’s head, fingers twining through his hair and forcing his mouth further down onto his neck, while the other wrapped around his back, closing the small gap between the rest of their bodies. 

Geralt released the skin in his mouth with a growl, staying close to lick at the bite mark and worry the skin around the edges. He butted the side of his head into Jaskier’s affectionately and squeezed the man’s wrists, held to the ground as they were. 

“Not to.. Not to interrupt whatever this is, in fact, please continue, but also please let me know that you haven’t been somehow turned into a fiend yourself and plan on eating me? Because I-fuck, Geralt!”

Jaskier shoved his hips up into Geralt’s uncontrollably as the man bit down a second time. 

“Not a fiend. I may eat you up though.”

Geralt sounded slightly breathless as he responded, but close to his normal self. 

“Yes, ha. Ha ha. Hilarious, Geralt. What I’d like to...oh sweet merciful… what I’d like to know is what is happeningggg again, again, bite me again because I’ve never felt this blessedly fucking turned on in my life and fuck! I just need to know if you’re with me, Witcher.”

Geralt did not even have the decency to stop grinding his cock down into Jaskier’s as he responded.

“I’m with you, Jaskier, and I’ll be in you if you could shut up for a moment and take your clothes off.”

Geralt let go of Jaskier’s wrists to roughly grab his hips, pushing down even harder into the man below him. He was trailing short, sweet kisses up and down the front of the bard’s throat when the man...flicked him in the center of the forehead.

Geralt looked up, disbelieving at the gall of the man, and saw the cheeky grin on the man’s face. 

“Can we hang on to that thought for a moment or two? It’s just, we have an audience. And also, you’re covered in...yuck.”

Geralt looked further afield to see that a group of brave (or nosy) villagers had hung around, even after watching one of their own idiots set himself on fire. 

Chuckling softly, he let his head drop onto Jaskier’s shoulder and breathed his scent in deeply. 

“I’m not so sure about our welcome back in the town, but I can hear a stream nearby if my current state of cleanliness is a deal-breaker.”

“Yes, well, that- that seems like a reasonable compromise!”

Neither of them moved a hair. 

“I don’t think I can… let you go.”

“Geralt…”

“Hmm.”

Geralt shifted his weight back into a kneeling position, bringing Jaskier with him. They continued to breath in each other’s air, take in each other’s scent and generally feel like nothing else in the world could touch them. 

“If we don’t get moving, I don’t think I’ll care much about an audience and there is such a thing as bad publicity-”

“It’s only bad publicity for you if you don’t want this village to see you mounted and ridden like a desperate whore.”

“Fucking - Geralt, well now that you’ve verbally bent me over, can we get on with it? Let’s find this stream before I take my pleasure myself and leave you out of it!”

“Hmm.”

Geralt easily lifted the bard and slung him over one shoulder as he stood up and turned towards the woods without so much as a nod at the villagers.

“Ooooooh yes, well this is entirely dignified, Geralt, thank you. My reputation will precede me everywhere I go as the-”

He stopped mid-ramble as Geralt sharply slapped his ass. 

“Stop talking or make peace with being fucked by a witcher covered in rotfiend gristle.”

It took everything Jaskier had not to respond scathingly to that statement, but he could feel Geralt’s already thin patience fraying, so he kept his silence.

But only for another five hundred paces or so.

“You know, I do recall earlier there was a time that you asked me to ta-AH!”

Jaskier landed back first into a shallow stream, fully submerging and coming up for air gasping. Before he could gather his wits, he felt Geralt reel him in and kiss him. Geralt gripped him by the back of his neck and kissed him through any additional words he tried to form, licking into his mouth and gently biting his lips. Jaskier abandoned the need to have the last work and threw himself at the witcher, unashamed of any desperation he felt. He knew it was mutual. He could feel Geralt’s other hand yanking on the ties to his own armor to remove the chest piece, briefly separating so he could toss it over his head to the bank of the stream. They crashed back together, Jaskier letting out soft moans as he grasped at Geralt’s gloves, yanking them off. The vambraces and pauldrons followed quickly and once the armor was fully removed, Geralt dunked himself under the water. 

“Clean enough for you, Jaskier?”

“Geralt, your hair is a disaster and I’m certain there are decaying guts on your pants but I could not give one ounce of a fuck right now, shut up and kiss me some more.”

Geralt huffed in amusement and slid his arms more sedately around Jaskier, hands meeting in the center of his back and then slowly sliding down to palm his ass. 

“Just kiss? Because whatever this is, a kiss doesn’t seem like it will satisfy it.”

“I know you think I’m a romantic, but all I want right now is for you to look me in the eyes and make me come until I can’t remember my own name.”

Geralt leaned down to find the mark he had left early, and let his lips brush against it softly as he spoke. 

“It’s a good thing you’re not looking for romance, because my dick is hard as fucking nails and I am sorely lacking any control whatsoever. But I think I can manage looking into your eyes, if that does it for you.”

Jaskier let out a shaky breath and clung a little tighter to Geralt’s shoulders.

“You know I hardly recall agreeing to letting you put your cock anywhere near my a-”

His mouth snapped shut as Geralt gently rubbed a finger against his hole through the cotton of his pants. He shuddered and pushed back into the touch, tucking his head against the man’s chest.

“I thought you wanted heavy and seductive eye contact, Jaskier?”

Jaskier wanted...everything. He wanted to look into this man’s eyes and know how vital he was to him. How whatever connection they had felt earlier was only growing. How somehow, Jaskier was Geralt’s strength and Geralt was his. 

He also desperately wanted to get fucked. 

Acting on instinct, he pressed one of his hands over the Witcher’s heart and cupped another against his cheek. Looking right into his eyes, near staring Geralt down, he tried to relay the intensity was experiencing. He tried to show him how he intrinsically knew they could work together, Geralt protecting the world from monsters and Jaskier protecting Geralt from the world. How the joked-about romance would only be one small part of this bond. How fucking incredible the sex would be.

Something burned in them simultaneously, and like lightning, a connection formed, striking into each of them. 

They had no more time or use for words, Geralt removing every shred of clothing on Jaskier’s body by sheer force, ripping and rending the expensive fabric without a thought or care. Jaskier shoved Geralt’s linen shirt up into his armpits just to get at bare skin while he eagerly pressed his open mouth to Geralt’s. They both went for the laces on Geralt’s trousers at the same moment, clumsily getting in each other’s way, clawing at them desperately. 

Geralt tore the laces straight out of their ties and released his cock, pressing up against Jaskier’s immediately. There was no finesse, no art to their movements, they simply pressed as close as possible, grinding and thrusting against each other’s skin. Geralt was sliding kisses up and down Jaskier’s jaw as Jaskier bit and licked his own lips, turned on beyond all reason. After barely a few more messy seconds, they both came loudly on each’s others skin and cocks. Panting as if they had just run leagues and leagues on foot, Jaskier let his head drop against the side of Geralt’s, happily clinging to the man. 

Shockingly, Geralt broke the silence.

“Fuck. That was...intense.”

Jaskier huffed a laugh.

“Geralt, that is exactly the type of tryst that bards like myself write about.”

“Hmm. And it’s not over yet.”

Geralt pushed his hips gently forward, and Jaskier was slightly surprised to find the man already half hard. 

“Now this is a Witcher-adjacent benefit I can get behind. Allow me…”

He wrapped a fist around his cock and started to slide down to his knees in the water. Geralt stopped him.

“No, together.”

“Together? Geralt, only one of us here has a magic cock. My poor mortal body just can’t handl-ahhHHHH well then alright, have it your way!”

Geralt had lifted him and dragged him back towards the edge of the stream, laying him out on his stomach on the sandy bank. 

Geralt could somehow feel that there was no apprehension, not even a slight twinge of anxiety from the bard at his position, and grinned faintly to himself.

“Well? I’m eagerly awaiting whatever masterful sexual prowess you think you have.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt leaned over Jaskier, planting one hand on either side of his rib cage, pausing for a moment to let the man simply feel his presence. 

Jaskier, never one to say still or quiet, shifted to bring an arm underneath him. Geralt pressed a hand between his shoulder blades and guided him back down. 

Starting at the top of his spine, Geralt nosed and licked his way down to the crest of Jaskier’s ass, taking smug note of the sensitive twitches of the other man. He teasingly closed his teeth around the flesh of one asscheek just to watch Jaskier jump.

“And just what are you getting up to back there, Master Witcher?”

“You know Jaskier, I do believe I discovered earlier the one thing that would make you shut up?”

“Oh? Do tell, what might that- fucking ahhhHHHH”

Geralt licked another stroke directly across his asshole without waiting for the man to recover. The noises Jaskier was making weren’t quite words, but were terribly close to singing. It was incredibly gratifying. Geralt pushed his tongue more firmly against the tight ring of muscle, just to add pressure but not quite to penetrate. Jaskier’s hips bucked helplessly back against the pressure. Geralt got a hold of the back of both of Jaskier’s thighs to help keep him in place. He laved a few more passes of his tongue, and then pursued a course downwards to the space behind Jaskier’s balls. He placed a kiss and then the lightest of nips on that small strip of flesh and heard the high pitched shriek that ripped out of Jaskier’s throat, allowing him to find his words again.

“Oh gods, Geralt, please please please, do something, anything, fucking touch me, gods…”

Geralt rubbed the skin of his thighs briefly and returned his attentions to the man’s ass. Gathering the spit in his mouth, he pushed the edge of his tongue through the ring of muscle and dragged it slowly back out. The bard made no noise other than the surprised catch of his breath and then a long shaky exhale. 

“It’s a shame, Jaskier, but I don’t think I can actually fuck you here.”

“No, no, we can definitely do that Geralt, please, please, I need you to fuck me.”

“Jaskier, think. I have no way to ease the penetration here. My spit is not enough to slick you up for... my size.”

Jaskier went slightly limp in Geralt’s hold, and he sighed heavily.

“You’re right, of course. I’ve come to know and appreciate that horse cock of yours and you would absolutely leave me in pieces.”

“Appreciate, huh?”

“Yes, alright, you are massively hung and I fucking love your giant cock. Are you happy, Geralt?”

“Hmm. Yes. Also, you’re hard again.”

“Well spotted, I am indeed hard again, with whatever dark Witcher magic you’ve managed to conjure. How do you plan to fix that?”

Geralt slid his hands up Jaskier’s thighs to the junction of his hips, and then easily used his strength to lift the man’s hips high off the ground. Jaskier drew his elbows underneath him for balance, but did not make an effort to rise any further. Spitting into his palm and rubbing it generously over his cock, Geralt parted the man’s asscheeks and slid in between them.

“Hmm… I think I can figure something out.”

He pushed forward, catching the rim of Jaskier’s asshole on the end of his cock, and then slowly dragged himself back across it. 

“Oh fuck.. That’s it Geralt, you’ve ended me, I’ll never be able to have sex with a beautiful woman ever ag-”

Geralt snarled and thrust down harder into his ass, cock sliding easily between the cheeks.

“You’ll have sex with no one but me after this, Jaskier. Never again will you bed a single one of your friendly royal ladies, or innocent milk sops, or even the handsome musicians you flirt with now and again. No one.”

He punctuated each statement with a hard thrust, pulling Jaskier’s hips roughly back against him.

“Y-y-you’re right, you’re right. I’ll never want anyone but you after this. Gods, what have you done to me?!”

Geralt felt he had said more than enough words on the matter and sped up his thrusts. He slid one hand around Jaskier’s waist to envelope his cock in large fist. He spread the copious amounts of precome down it and sliding and twisting his fist around it, bringing Jaskier closer to his edge. 

“Fuck Geralt, fuck, this is...this is…”

Jaskier came suddenly, emptying himself over the ground beneath them. The unexpected clench of his ass brought Geralt abruptly to the edge, and he had just enough time to get a fist around himself and jerk himself off, drenching Jaskier’s ass in his come. 

Jaskier collapsed completely onto the ground as Geralt barely managed to keep himself up on his knees. He reached one last time for Jaskier’s ass, ignoring the protesting noise from the bard. He collected a bit of his come onto his finger and pushed it gently inside the man, pressing his thumb against his fluttering hole one last time. 

Jaskier made another noise, managing to convey how unfairly hot and overstimulating he found that to be. 

Geralt let himself slump down to the ground on his side next to Jaskier, reaching over to push the man’s hair out of his face. 

“Hellooooo, Geralt.”

Jaskier sounded incredibly worn out and close to sleep, and incredibly happy and content. 

“Hmm.”

“Always a man with something to say. So… should we have the conversation about how I can feel you inside my brain somehow now, or later?”

“...fuck.”

“Yes, I agree, later will be just fine. For now Geralt, look me in the eyes and profess your undying love and devotion to this romantic.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and turned to let the back of his head rest on the ground.

“C’mon Gerallllllt, now’s your chance!”

“Jaskier….”

“Oh...uh, yes?”

Geralt shifted his head to look straight into his eyes,

“You’re mine. I’m yours. And if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m throwing you right back into that stream.”

“I love you too, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting and exposition. That's all I got for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like in the first part it may have come across that I’m not a fan of Yennefer, but I am here to tell you that is 100% false. She and Calanthe are queens of my heart! I also feel like the dynamic between her and Jaskier could easily go from genuine dislike to playful banter. And since this is already a shamefully self-indulgent work.., it’s happening.
> 
> So here we go, part 2, KOBEEEEE.

After a few moments of blessed silence, reality began to set back in. Geralt pulled his sodden trousers back up over his hips, doing the best he could to lace them up haphazardly having torn out most of the eyelets in his haste. Jaskier gazed on vaguely, looking entirely too comfortable for a man lying on a bed of abrasive sand soaked with his own come. 

Dawn wasn’t too far off, and they still had to figure out how to liberate the rest of their belongings from the inn, assuming the villagers hadn’t already disposed of or burned them. If they were smarter than they let on, they would have left Roach entirely alone. Not that Roach would let them get away with anything.

He wasn’t quite ready to address whatever was going on in his brain. He had tried not to think too deeply of any permanent damage that had certainly been caused by the Trials, but faced with this brand new flavor of shit... Geralt could feel Jaskier’s smug contentment in the back of his head like an exceptionally irritating fly buzzing next to his ear. Normally, the man’s countenance was enough to send Geralt into a grump, but being able to feel it was something else entirely. 

Jaskier was unusually quiet, seemingly lost in thought as he barely moved a muscle from where he lay. Geralt was familiar with the adage ‘let sleeping dragons lie’ both in theory and practice, and thought it would be a convenient time to heed it. 

Grunting softly, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way to his belongings, assessing the damage. The armor would need a quick rinse to remove the rest of the blood and innards accumulated from his earlier fight, and the shirt… well, he’d be uncomfortably damp for the foreseeable future.

His foray also reminded him of the state of Jaskier’s clothing which was to say… effectively and perhaps permanently destroyed. How long could he put off the bard from realizing…?

Jaskier, never one to miss a moment to watch Geralt in a state of less than full dress, slowly came to the same realization.

Geralt, facing away from Jaskier, could feel the instant the bard took stock - his indignation might as well have been a strong gust of wind aiming to bowl him over. He closed his eyes in the last moment of silence and waited for the storm to break. 

“Geralt. Explain to me how somehow all of your clothing has remained conveniently whole, while my-my - very expensive I might add! Very expensive outfit has been scattered to the four winds, never to be made whole again!”

Jaskier hastily turned over on to his back and propped himself up on his elbows, the better angle to express the indignity of the circumstances.

“How exactly, praytell, do you plan to make it back to the village - and don’t think I’ve forgotten the way we left those villagers just a short while ago! - with me in this state!”

Geralt retrieved his shirt from the ground, aggressively wrung out the fabric and tossed it over his shoulder with unerring accuracy to land with a loud splat onto Jaskier’s still-reclined form.

“Here.”

“Oh yes, fuck you very much, Geralt, so incredibly generous of you, Witcher, to spare me one measly piece of cloth to preserve my mo-”

“Jaskier. Please don’t insult either of us by implying you had any modicum of modesty left even before...this.”

“Well, I- alright, yes, fine, fine! I have been known for my appreciation of all of life’s pleasures, maybe especially of those of the flesh, and yes, perhaps many have seen my naked visage but -”

Both men paused as they felt a resounding, mental crack, like an axe splitting a particularly large log, emanating strongly from Geralt. 

Jaskier winced.

“I see that will continue to be a sore topic, so let’s just crack on from here-”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier had made it to his feet and gathered up the borrowed shirt. He began folding it around his waist like a skirt’s misshapen cousin, movements efficient and practiced. 

Geralt simply stared, and slowly raised an eyebrow.

“There have been enough scenarios, Geralt, where I have had to make a quick exit from a… I’ll save the hilarious and self-aggrandizing anecdotes for another time shall I?”

Geralt touched his forefinger and thumb to his temples, focusing on the familiar ache that dealing with Jaskier’s theatrics gave him, rather than admit the faint warming sensation in the pit of his stomach had anything to do with the bard.

Jaskier stepped to Geralt’s side as the man collected his armor. After rinsing, it would be uncomfortable to wear any of the pieces without an undershirt, but carrying it would be more of a pain. 

Then, his enhanced senses rang a sharp alarm as he felt two separate presences arrive in very close proximity. That he had no further warning suggested a magically assisted entrance which probably meant…

He pressed a palm into Jaskier’s chest to guide him slightly back behind the witcher as he turned to face the new arrivals. 

“I have to say, this doesn’t quite match my hypothesis of this little experiment.”

Istredd strode confidently towards them, looking staggeringly unworried at being within striking distance of an irate witcher. Geralt loathed him from the tips of his fancy boots to his irritating, gloved fingertips.

Then his eyes jumped to Istredd’s companion.

“Geralt of Rivia. Destiny once again laughs in your face and I am delighted to be here to witness.”

“Yen.”

Yennefer strolled casually towards them, giving off the air of endless self-satisfaction. Geralt could feel a strong surge of...something...from Jaskier, but kept his focus on the potential threat. 

“Oh Yennefer, how _have _you been? Bewitched any other men recently with your frankly unnameable charms?”__

__Jaskier’s falsely simpering voice made Geralt regret many decisions of the past few hours. Months. Years._ _

__“Jaskier. Always a pleasure to see how you manage to retain your dignity mid-crisis.”_ _

__Yennefer’s responding grin showed far too many teeth to be anything friendly, but her words landed more softly than her tone suggested._ _

__“How lovely of you to notice, Yennefer! And if I may-”_ _

__“You may not. Yen, why are you here?”_ _

__“Always straight to the point, Geralt, it is one of your qualities I miss the most. But certainly not the only quality I’ve missed.”_ _

__She turned an easily flirtatious look at his sloppily laced trousers, but there was no real heat behind it._ _

__Geralt felt Jaskier’s temper rear its head like a wild horse resisting capture. Blindly, he slid his hand up to clench a fist around the man’s shoulder to stop him from doing something entirely moronic._ _

__“I went to find Yen as soon as I left you last night, Geralt. I had thought that her presence might be… required after your transformation, but there seems to have been an unexpected solution.”_ _

__While Geralt generally avoided needless death, especially of potential allies, the man’s outright admittance to having done something to the witcher made him rethink his stance._ _

__Yennefer dramatically rolled her eyes as the silence dragged on between the two men._ _

__“Geralt, you are not a complicated man. Your intentions are written directly upon your face. Stow your tiresome ego and let’s all have a civil conversation here. Istredd has information you’re going to need if you don’t want to lose what remains of your senses. And Istredd, you owe Geralt for the shit that might have befell if your idiotic experiment hadn’t crashed directly into Destiny’s frankly terrible sense of humor.”_ _

__Geralt clenched his jaw, aware he had barely an option to object, but unwilling to force himself to ask for aide. Istredd made no jump to offer either, continuing to appear unaffected by the tense nature of the group._ _

__He could feel Jaskier’s anxiety claw at him like a hungry wolf, and recalled that seemingly he wasn’t the only one impacted by whatever the mage had done. He wasn’t quite sure who called the memory to the surface, but he could faintly hear himself saying _I need no one. And the last thing I want, is someone needing me.__ _

__“And yet, here we are.”_ _

__Jaskier spoke just loudly enough for Geralt to hear, and that was enough to spur him to decision._ _

__“Fine. I’m going to the inn to retrieve our belongings and my horse. The villagers, though, may be...less than welcoming.”_ _

__“I do hope these villagers had the sense to leave my clothing alone, or this will be the start to an unforgettably uncomfortable day. And my lute! Gods forbid they did anything to my lute. Geralt, if they have touched even a string on my darling I want you to rain down hell upon their heads.”_ _

__Istredd cleared his throat loudly before speaking._ _

__“Ah, yes, it was unfortunate that the innkeeper died in the attack. It certainly wasn’t my intention to let too many people get hurt.”_ _

__“Your intention? Are you saying you planned that Rotfiend infestation?!”_ _

__Rather than what Geralt thought as his normal level of personal outrage at the thought of any harm befalling his own person, Jaskier seemed more righteously angry at the idea that anyone would have planned such an event and put others at risk. Geralt could almost taste the specificity of the emotion, like the metallic tang of an unsheathed sword._ _

__“It seemed the simplest way to trigger the final phase of Geralt’s transformation. And I did make sure to leave the beast in an uninhabited area. I just had no idea it would bring friends.”_ _

__Geralt sneered at the man._ _

__“So stuck in your books, mage, that you forget how the world works.”_ _

__Istredd’s face hardened immediately, but Yennefer had had enough of the conversation._ _

__“Yes, we’ve all got such good and strong morals in this group. Not a single one of us has ever made a faulty decision or had a deed backfire on them. Can we our heads out of our own asses and move to the actual important part of this all?”_ _

__“Geralt, I would very much like to hear what he has to say.”_ _

__Jaskier slipped out of Geralt’s hold and began to walk in the direction of the village._ _

__Torn between not wanting the mages at his back and not wanting Jaskier to get too far away, he folded his arms and glared at the pair._ _

__“After you.”_ _

__Yennefer huffed in annoyance and grabbed Istredd by the arm, pulling him in the direction of the bard._ _

__Geralt’s skin started to tingle faintly, and the air itself began to feel heavy. Keeping an eye on the two to make sure they weren’t casting, he knelt to collect his armor and swords. With every passing second, the feeling grew stronger and stronger, til he began to feel short of breath. His skin crawled, and felt too small for his body, and rising seemed an impossible task. Panting, he searched out Jaskier to see that the man had stopped moving and fallen to his knees, hands grasping at the grass surrounding him._ _

__Yennefer was the first to notice, and let go of Istredd to quickly walk back to the witcher. She hovered a soft hand just above Geralt’s bicep, and spoke more gently than her normal tone._ _

__“Geralt? What is it? Istredd, bring Jaskier back here! Geralt, just try and breath. Breath for me.”_ _

__After a few moments, the sensation began to lessen, and speedily rescinded until all Geralt could feel was a faint sense of unease. Jaskier wobbled the last few steps towards him as he removed his arm from around Istredd’s shoulder where the mage had been supporting him. Jaskier was still breathing raggedly and simply threaded his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and let his bodyweight collapse onto the man._ _

__“That was awful. What-what was that?”_ _

__Geralt slid his arms around Jaskier’s back and took a few calming breaths. There was no sudden strike of lust as it had been earlier, simply a warming comfort._ _

__“I think I might know. You both should probably stay within an arm’s reach of each other. This is fascinating! It’s like a kind of magic all of its own without having any actual foundational power behind it.”_ _

__Istredd was observing the two avidly. Yennefer turned to him, clearly irritated._ _

__“That seems to have been knowledge that would have been far more useful to us all moments ago, before forcing them to experience that. Istredd, do better.”_ _

__Geralt, having regained his equilibrium, patted Jaskier softly on the back and then pushed the man into a standing position. He gathered his armor and his sword and stood, sending a sharp glance at the mage that was currently the source of their unfortunate current state._ _

__“You have a lot to answer for mage, I think it best we get to having that conversation.”_ _

__\---_ _

__The walk back to the village is an awkward one, as one might imagine. Geralt’s primary state of being was silence, and he was more interested in keeping an eye on all members of this odd party, for varying reasons by person._ _

__Istredd had returned to his aloof self, seemingly untouched by the tension once again._ _

__Yennefer, she wielded both silence and conversation to her own advantage and was seemingly waiting for the right moment._ _

__And Jaskier, well, the man pursued the career of a bard for a reason, and it was not just for the frankly outstanding fashion._ _

__“So, I know we’re not having _the_ conversation yet, but I have questions, quite a few if I’m honest, that I feel could be addressed in this moment. Perhaps a willingness to be forthcoming would ease the next short while we must pass in each other’s company?”_ _

__“Jaskier, I regret to inform you that very little eases any passage of time in your company.”_ _

__Yennefer’s first jab into their standard verbal sparring seemed to breath life back into an unusually subdued Jaskier._ _

__“Yes, well, you’d know quite well about the passage of time, wouldn’t you, Yennefer? I imagine decades must seem like a blink of an eye to a woman of your advanced years.”_ _

__Geralt let out a surprised hiss of laughter, which only spurred them on further._ _

__“Be careful the direction in which you cast that stone, Jaskier. Let us not forget that your witcher’s hair is white not only out of mutation, but equally colored by years.”_ _

__She paused for dramatic effect, mouth resisting a smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkling in telltale amusement._ _

__“Why, Geralt, I never would have guessed you’d be interested in the sweet spring of youth, such as it is. Who knew you had these hidden depths?!”_ _

__Geralt hmmed in annoyance at becoming a target for her teasing._ _

__Jaskier, always looking for the last word._ _

__“Yennefer, I’m sure you’re more than familiar with the depths our dear witcher can reach!”_ _

__Geralt cuffed the bard upside the head, mouth twisting in a battle between displeasure, discomfort and a tiny amount of amusement he would never admit to._ _

__Yennefer gave up her pretense and laughed outright._ _

__“Well played, bard, well played. You do have a way with words well suited to your profession.”_ _

__Jaskier’s face warmed at the sincere compliment and at stirring a laugh out of the woman. A roguish grin spread across his face as he nudged Geralt. He set his voice at a very obvious stage whisper._ _

__“Geralt, I think she’s implying I have a talented mouth. And I want you to know, she is absolutely corr-”_ _

__“Enough, you two. The inn is just past that treeline. I can’t hear any angry mobs of villagers, but...”_ _

__“No need, Geralt. I will go to the inn. You and Jaskier can’t be separated, and as much as he loves attention, his current state of dress will surely only draw the wrong sort. Also, Roach loves me.”_ _

__Jaskier pouted. She grinned. Geralt hmmed._ _

__“I will stay to answer some of your questions. I’m sure Yen will be quick.”_ _

__Istredd laid heavy emphasis on his last sentence, relaying his desire to not be stuck alone with Geralt for too long._ _

__Yennefer’s grin sharpened, and with an obviously false, “Of course!” she crossed the line of trees back into the village._ _

__Jaskier glanced around and spotted a fallen tree to perch on. Geralt set down his armor and, keeping his sword at hand, followed, allowing only a few steps in between the two. Jaskier sank down and hiked one leg up to rest his foot on the trunk next to him… and quickly dropped his foot back to the ground when he felt an unexpected draft._ _

__Geralt caught the flash of a pale thigh and continued to stare even once it was covered again._ _

__Istredd cleared his throat loudly, and leaned, now forcibly casual, against a nearby tree._ _

__\---_ _

__Jaskier was torn between not wanting to appear any more vulnerable in front of the mage, and propping his leg back up to keep Geralt’s attention focused solely on him. It was a heady novelty, to be the focus of that intense regard and not the target of his irritation._ _

__He wasn’t sure how this new… bond… felt to Geralt, but to him… Geralt was a massive maelstrom of emotion held back by a very thin and fragile wall. At any moment, he had difficulty picking out what the man was feeling most strongly, a low grade irritation, mistrust and general malaise constantly whistling through the cracks. He got bursts of other strong emotions, such as the low, sensual melodic note that burst forth during Jaskier’s… wardrobe malfunction. And of course during their fantastic bout of sex hours previous... the lust, the desperation, the possessiveness from the man had been...consuming, like being swaddled in the finest of silk sheets. Jaskier shivered in anticipation just thinking about another go. Or two. Or as many as they could achieve before he was completely wrung out… Oh, Geralt’s stare is getting a little more heated now, isn’t it? Best to abandon that line of thought for the moment. Unless…no, no, just because he usually chose not to exert self-control didn’t mean he lacked it entirely. He was just out of practice._ _

__When he had first had an inkling of what might be going on, he had assumed that a connection of the ilk would help him understand the witcher more clearly, but, well, not so, so far._ _

__He had heard plenty of songs sung by his masters and professors about mystical soul connections from a distant past, the kind that linked two beings inextricably, blah blah blah, but he had easily assumed that much like himself, these songs’ composers had simply taken the truth and… embellished._ _

__Embellished greatly._ _

__The songs had spun tales of great heroic feats achieved by a bond so powerful it required no spoken word between partners. There were sweet and sorrowful ballads of one half perishing and the other quickly following them into the afterlife. To think that there was more than a seed of truth in these songs, well, that was quite a lot to think about._ _

__And Jaskier wasn’t a fool - he had quickly realized with Yennefer’s appearance that Istredd has assumed she had been the other half of Geralt’s bond, and he had been struck with a terrible and ugly jealousy in that moment. Part of him instantly feared that whatever was growing between them would be easily shattered by her presence._ _

__But Geralt had barely spared an extra breath towards her, had felt no urgent desire for her or rescinded any of his hovering presence in Jaskier’s mind._ _

__And that was… well…_ _

__Jaskier was greedy. He didn’t like sharing Geralt’s attention with Yennefer. He had felt like he was losing the man to her, slowly but surely. Not to put too fine a point on it but… Geralt was his. He had found the witcher long before Yennefer and devoted himself to him. Whether or not the man _wanted_ his company or his friendship, he had it from the moment they met, the pull far too strong for Jaskier to resist. _ _

__And looking back to their first meeting, his eyes catching the glint of white hair in the corner of the dark pub, his immediate urge to approach the man… maybe this bond had always been there, latent and sleeping until whatever Istredd had done to wake it._ _

__That made him feel a little more willingly to spill some water onto the conversational drought they were in with Istredd._ _

__Ha. As if that weren’t the only way anything would get started._ _

__“Is there anything else, Istredd, that we should know about our current situation? Any other nasty little surprises like the invisible leash we now have on each other?”_ _

__“I had imagined this all playing out very differently, understand. I wasn’t entirely sure how quickly the potion would take for one, and when it was clear Geralt was being affected only hours after...well, it was sloppily done and I wasn’t quite prepared for all eventualities. I thought I would have more time to set up the beast’s attack, more time to collect Yennefer and bring her to you. In fact-”_ _

__“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good, but I’m talking about things we should know now, immediately. Any odd, magical side effects that typically accompany these sorts of situations - will Geralt grow horns, for instance? That’s always first on my list for magical side effects, no offense Geralt. And if that is a potential issue, well, not to worry, I think you’d wear them very well. Or-or-or will I become hopelessly desirable to the general population? I’ve heard that’s a very popular outcome to magic gone awry!”_ _

__“You had better hope not.”_ _

__Geralt muttered it under his breath, just loud enough for Jaskier to hear._ _

__“Nothing quite so… colorful. I noticed earlier you were able to maintain skin to skin contact, so you’ve already cleared that boundary. According to the texts I reclaimed, you should be able to sense or communicate emotion without actively trying, is this true? Further than just targeted thoughts we mages can scry from each other?”_ _

__“We’ve done far, far more than ‘maintain skin to skin contact’, if you catch my meaning.”_ _

__Was it their newfound bond or just his profound knowledge of Geralt to know that he had rolled his eyes at that last jaunty statement? Hard to say._ _

__Istredd’s voice was dryer than the desert._ _

__“I catch it quite well. Geralt certainly...marked his territory clearly.”_ _

__Without a mirror handy, Jaskier assumed that the bite Geralt left on him was far towards the savage end of the scale._ _

__“I wonder, though…”_ _

__Istredd shifted his weight off the tree and approached Jaskier, peeling a glove off his right hand. Jaskier flinched and sat up stiffly, unsure if he should leave his perch._ _

__Geralt, aggressively and casually- how did he manage that dichotomy? Was it the mutation? - used his thumb to eject his sword a few inches out of the sheath, otherwise not moving._ _

__“Use your words, mage.”_ _

__Ha, irony!_ _

__If you asked Jaskier, Istredd seemed unfairly exasperated at the situation, as if Jaskier and Geralt were being tedious and slow and interfering in his great, grand experiment. He reminded Jaskier in that moment of many a master who had acted in kind. Typically the sign of a poor master, rather than a slow student, in his opinion._ _

__“I would like to gauge the reaction in the two of you if I were to make contact with one of you.”_ _

__“Oh no, we’re not doing this again. Tell us plainly what you expect, so Geralt and I are both prepared, and you don’t lose any important limbs in the process. Knowing Geralt though, you may still lose an appendage regardless if you attempt to touch him.”_ _

__Geralt hmmed, and let the weapon sink back into its sheath with a sharp click, point having been made._ _

__“I anticipate a negative reaction from both of you, but I cannot give you an estimate of how negative. It’s not as if I’ve done a whole many of these.”_ _

__“Yes, well, _that_ is abundantly clear.”_ _

__Jaskier was sort of impressed at how quickly Istredd had burned through any goodwill Jaskier had felt toward him not minutes earlier. Without standing, he then reluctantly extended his hand, palm up, towards the man._ _

__“No.”_ _

__Geralt knocked his hip into Jaskier’s outstretched arm - rather clever of him not to touch Jaskier lest they trigger round three in front of what would be an entirely too invested audience - and offered his own forearm._ _

__“Exactly how negative is nega-”_ _

__The moment Istredd’s finger made contact with Geralt, Jaskier felt a wave of revulsion strike him, like hearing a badly played chord on a badly tuned lute. He could tell Geralt felt similarly, and the witcher yanked his arm back to his side._ _

__“And?”_ _

__Geralt seemed to need a moment to collect himself, or just had no interest in providing any information to Istredd that he felt might make him more vulnerable._ _

__“Let’s just say we won’t be doing any Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, meet-and-greets in any local taverns for a while.”_ _

__“Would you say that it was a purely mental response, or were there any physical side effects? Could you describe the sensation?”_ _

__Geralt hesitated, and they both ended up speaking at once._ _

__“It was like stepping through a field of corpses, and feeling your boot sinking into the stomach cavity of a particularly rancid - “_ _

__“It was the same sensation I felt hearing a fellow troubadour play the most foul note I had ever had the misfortune -”_ _

__Istredd looked back and forth between them, more than faintly amused. His gaze then slightly lost it’s focus as he seemingly was struck by a sudden thought._ _

__“Yen’s run into some difficulties in retrieving your things from the inn. And before you get up in arms, Geralt, by difficulties I mean she would like me to make it clear that she is not a pack mule and will not be carrying as she says, the frankly absurd amount of items Jaskier currently has in his possession. I will assist her so we can move on to a more private setting for this conversation.”_ _

__Before Jaskier could express his righteous indignation at that jab coming from a woman with a seemingly endless closet, Istredd had already begun crossing the tree line._ _

__“Well I- absurd! - It’s only a few new additions to my wardrobe and my very precious lute, how dare she imply that I -”_ _

__Geralt hmmed, but this ‘hmm’ held more amusement than Jaskier was accustomed to._ _

__“Pretty sure Yen is just trying to give us a break.”_ _

__“Oh, that’s - that’s unexpectedly decent of her.”_ _

__Jaskier could barely drum up any sense of jealousy at this moment, more interested in pursuing Geralt’s downright chatty behavior._ _

__“At long last, we’re alone once again. Now that we’ve got this nice, cosy piece of forest to ourselves, perhaps we could -”_ _

__Always willing to trample a boundary rather than slide a toe across cautiously, Jaskier reached towards Geralt’s bare arm. Without even deigning to fully turn towards the bard, still looking off in the direction of the village, Geralt easily moved the limb out of reach._ _

__“Jaskier, it’s been barely an hour since I brought you off, twice, and I’m fairly certain we established I’m the only one with a magic cock in this relationship.”_ _

___Relationship?_ Jaskier mouthed to himself in bewilderment. But he bounced back quickly._ _

__“You say that, but I’m fairly certain I can sense that you are a big, fat liar and would like nothing more than to ravish me once again, immediately, on this very tree.”_ _

__“I can hear Yen charming the innkeeper’s wife, she’s already got our things readied so they won’t be long to return, and I’d rather not give either of them more of a show than we already have.”_ _

__Jaskier blinked in surprise._ _

__“Geralt...that was positively garroulous of you! Garrolous Geralt - well if that’s not the perfect title for a new jig, I just couldn’t contrive a better one - I mean, hang on, you can hear her from that distance? Has your hearing always been that keen?”_ _

__Jaskier was frantically attempting to recall any conversation he had ever had in any proximity to the witcher that he previously had thought would be safe distance to impart some… choice details regarding the man._ _

__“No, it… it hasn’t. And I think I can hear even further than that if I just…”_ _

__Geralt trailed off, and Jaskier felt their burgeoning connection dull, like listening to a tune muffled through a closing door._ _

__“Geralt!”_ _

__He leapt from his perch and circled the other man to face him properly, immediately seeing the alarmingly unfocused gaze and the sweat breaking out around the man’s temples._ _

__“Geralt, what’s happening?”_ _

__“I can hear _everything_.”_ _

__The tone of his voice was incredibly unsettling, as distant as his gaze._ _

__“Geralt, listen to me. To my voice. I know you’ve had some terribly unkind words for it before, and I can take worse criticism than that - but on the other hand, please don’t feel the need to revisit it - but you need to hear me. Now.”_ _

__Geralt seemed to be struggling to reign back his senses, but was clearly trying._ _

__Well, Jaskier had won many successes through reckless abandon before so…_ _

__He gripped both of Geralt’s biceps and shook the man gently. Geralt’s head jerked forward as he seemed to violently snap back into himself._ _

__“Are you with me, Witcher?”_ _

__Geralt shook his head like a dazed horse, but Jaskier could see that his eyes had cleared. And again, despite the contact, neither of them felt the overpowering desire they had experienced not an hour earlier, which was truly a pity in Jaskier’s opinion._ _

__“It’s been decades since I’ve lost control like that.”_ _

__“Has it? ...I feel the need to bring up the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever heard you volunteer so much information about yourself in one sitting… ever.”_ _

__“The cause is… whatever’s been done to us. It’s like a river has started forcing its way through an aging dam, and I can’t quite seem to shore it up. Not with you, at least.”_ _

__Jaskier felt so many emotions at that statement he could barely categorize them. Geralt snorted._ _

__“Well that’s going to get old fast. How do you manage to feel...that much?”_ _

__“Us boring old mortal humans Geralt, are simply a loud, messy carnival of emotions in soft, squishy casing.”_ _

__“Pick _one_ for now, before my headache gets worse.”_ _

__Jaskier felt his smug satisfaction as loudly as he could._ _

__“That’s two. Also, I’m suddenly envisioning how insufferable this is going to be.”_ _

__Jaskier felt it louder._ _

__“You were put on this earth to torment me, it’s clear now.”_ _

__Jaskier released the man’s arms to playfully slap at them._ _

__“You’re finally getting it, Geralt.”_ _

__“Oh, I’ve gotten it for a while.”_ _

__Had Jaskier ever seen the man’s gaze soften as it just had? Heard the teasing tone in his voice? He was addicted. And never one to miss an opportunity when it presented itself…_ _

__“May I remind you that _I_ haven’t gotten _it_ yet…”_ _

__He made an exaggerated grab for Geralt’s crotch, fully expecting the man to bat away his hand._ _

__“Jaskier, I swear to you that I will fuck you to within an inch of you life the moment we have even an ounce of privacy, but until then, don’t test my control.”_ _

__Be still his beating heart._ _

__“With an oath like that, I suppose I can behave myself.”_ _

__“Hmm.”_ _

__They passed a few moments in a surprisingly comfortable silence, Jaskier seating himself back on the fallen trunk. He felt no need to break it. Now that he was able to sense Geralt's mood, his tendency to ramble was quieted. He had liked to fill the silence between them previously to bridge the gaping chasm of Geralt's general conversational skills and charisma, but also because he had never been quite certain where he stood with the man at any given moment. Now that he had that constant feedback, not to mention the nothing-short-of-bewildering confirmation that the man felt deeply for him… well, a comfortable silence then._ _

__He watched as Geralt huffed a small sigh and sat down next to him. Jaskier knocked his shoulder against Geralt's and smiled genuinely at him. The edge of Geralt's mouth turned up slightly. Progress!_ _

__"Well, look at it this way, it could be worse. You could have ended up-"_ _

__"Do not finish that thought. Please. Let's not have a repeat of the djinn."_ _

__"Oh! Are we blaming me for that now?! I'm fairly sure there's enough blame to go around for the both of us."_ _

__"Your capacity for twisting events is unparalleled, Jaskier."_ _

__"Of course it is, how else would I be such a successful and all around highly admired bard?"_ _

__"What about the incident with the werewolf in Sedonia?"_ _

__"That was... entirely your fault."_ _

__Geralt whipped his head to stare at Jaskier in open disgust._ _

__"I'm only teasing, Witcher. I did make some astonishingly ill-conceived decisions during that week."_ _

__"You're damn right. I won't be able to return there for at least three decades, until the entire royal court has died off."_ _

__Jaskier laughed delightedly._ _

__\---_ _

__Geralt felt...calm. Not just at rest as he usually felt when not engaged in combat, but calm._ _

__It was...nice._ _

__And Jaskier laughing at something he said and not at him...that was nice too._ _

__He could hear Yen, Roach and the mage close by in their return and let himself enjoy the few moments more he had with Jaskier._ _

__Jaskier was fiddling with the end of one of the sleeves of Geralt’s shirt wrapped around him, and Geralt appreciated that for all the dramatics and living his life as if all the world were a stage, Jaskier was in reality a rather even-keeled man, and was taking his world turning upside down around him in stride._ _

__He heard Roach nicker softly upon coming into view of Geralt, and looked towards the approaching trio. Roach, loaded down with most of their belongings, tugged gently against her lead and Yen let her go, the mare making her way directly to bump her nose into Geralt’s shoulder._ _

__“Sorry, Roach.”_ _

__Roach snorted twice, making clear her feelings on being left behind. She then blinked slowly, then delicately sniffed around Geralt’s head. Once seemingly satisfied with her inspection, she shifted to knock against Jaskier briefly in greeting._ _

__“Oh, hello! Hi Roach, I’m very pleased to see you too, what’s this all about?”_ _

__The mare side eyed Geralt, shook out her mane and stepped slightly away to inspect a thick patch of grass._ _

__Istredd stopped a generous distance from the seated pair, with a strong air of a man having been verbally flayed within an inch of his life._ _

__Yen exaggeratedly dropped a neatly folded pile of cloth into Jaskier’s lap, and more gently set his lute down to rest against the tree._ _

__“End our suffering, Jaskier, and put these on. The sooner I am no longer blinded by your pasty, pale skin, the sooner we can leave this shithole.”_ _

__“Pasty! Pale! And how familiar are you with the conflict of the pot and the kettle, Yennefer?”_ _

__“Jaskier, please, for all our sakes. Get. Dressed.”_ _

__“Fine, but only so you can have the pleasure of undressing me later, Geralt.”_ _

__Jaskier gathered up the clothes and stalked off to a nearby copse of trees. Geralt felt the faint tingling sensation of separation and followed, leaving a few arm’s length between them._ _

__He turned his back to the man and faced the others._ _

__“And where are we to have this conversation, if not in this village?”_ _

__“Well, I just so happen to be comfortably settled into a manor of a local earl only about half a day’s ride from here. I suppose I can generously offer a room or two...for a price.”_ _

__“Yen, really?”_ _

__“Oh Geralt, stop being so boring, I’m only teasing. The sheer entertainment factor of this entire mess is more than payment enough anyways.”_ _

__“I will meet you all there. I need to retrieve a few of the texts I’ve been researching...Yen insists on seeing them firsthand.”_ _

__“Yes, we’ll see you shortly, Istredd.”_ _

__The mage turned to walk off a slight ways, bringing something to his mouth and muttering in Elder. The portal appeared, and without hesitation, he walked through._ _

__Jaskier came out from around the tree, fully clothed, and took the opportunity for some revenge, throwing the still damp shirt at the back of Geralt’s head._ _

__Geralt snatched the shirt out of midair before it could hit him, and half-turned to the bard, raising an eyebrow._ _

__“Well, you can’t blame me for trying! C’mon, Geralt, now that you can’t actually follow through on your empty-anyways threats and maim me, this opens up a whole new world of opportunity for me!”_ _

__“Don’t push it, Jaskier, or I’ll put you over my knee in way that you won’t like.”_ _

__“Oh, now this kind of threat I can get behind. I can’t think of a single thing you could do to me that I wouldn’t want, Witcher.”_ _

__Geralt, having wrung what additional water he could out of the shirt, slipped it back over his head to give himself a moment. There would be no stopping Jaskier, now. A nightmare of his own making._ _

__“Gentlemen, shall we get a move on? I really don’t want to hear any more of this horrific attempt at flirting longer than I absolutely have to.”_ _

__Geralt approached Roach and gathered up her reins, gently guiding her over to the other two, who had closed the distance between them to bicker. He pushed the reins into Jaskier’s hands, interrupting, and Roach squeezed her way in between the two. Yen reached out to pat her on the neck, and Jaskier ran his fingers through some of the tangles in her mane._ _

__Having successfully distracted the duo, Geralt collected his armor and sword, strapped the armor to Roach’s side and situated the sword in the case with his other, and slung it over his back._ _

__He looked back at Yen and Jaskier, and saw them both watching him silently._ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“Just admiring the view.”_ _

__“Geralt, has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when armed?”_ _

__They spoke at the same time, startling each other, and then grinned. Geralt had the feeling this would be a painfully long twelve hours._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This monstrosity won't stop growing.
> 
> In this chapter: feelings and plot. Yennefer being amazing.

It was a burden, Geralt thought, to be right all of the time. An armistice had been reached in whatever cold war had been waging between Yennefer and Jaskier, and they passed the hours on the road with very little silence amongst them. 

Yennefer surprisingly shared some tales of her time in court in Aedirn and of some of her recent exploits wreaking chaos across the lands. Jaskier worked his way through his entire catalog of compositions. 

With one exception. Geralt, not wanting to let on that he was familiar with all of the bard's work, thought it odd that Her Sweet Kiss had been overlooked. It was Jaskier's most popular ballad and he had heard it round the Continent in many taverns from many different voices.

After a few moments of Jaskier merely plucking the strings of his lute but not committing to an actual tune, Geralt voiced his curiosity.

"Skipped a song, haven't you?"

Jaskier played a jarring note and both he and Yennefer turned to look at him, two varying degrees of disbelief on their faces.

"Unbelievable!"

"Geralt, you remain steadfastly one of the greatest disappointments I have shared a bed with. The gods blessed your cock with one hand, and emptied out your brains with another, apparently."

Geralt hmmed defensively, wrongfooted at the the level of vitriol in their responses. He didn't much like the emotions roiling off Jaskier after that though. The bard's sour mix of misery and awkwardness felt like a gaping wound had been carved in his abdomen. 

The silence weighed unpleasantly for the next thousand yards. 

Geralt gritted his teeth, understanding he had made some sort of misstep and now felt obligated to fix it, not being able to withstand the weight of Jaskier's displeasure. Something he had previously been able to strike from his mind, but now unable to overlook. Inconvenient.

He closed the gap from where he trailed a few paces behind the two, and bumped his shoulder against Jaskier's. 

"Have you considered a song to commemorate our time in Cidaris?"

Jaskier's mood immediately lifted, like the sun breaking through after weeks of rain.

"You do come out looking quite the heroic figure in that one, Geralt, considering they were ready to marry you into the royal family on the spot after you ended the enchantment."

"An enchantment we only discovered because you laid out that other bard to prevent him from killing the king. I have fond memories of that punch. It was a good punch."

Yennefer seemed entertained by the story, though sent a pointed look in Geralt’s direction to let him know how clumsy his reparations were.

"I don't think I've heard about this particular assassination attempt through the grapevine at Aretuza, though to be fair there are far too many to truly keep track. What was the enchantment?"

Jaskier eagerly launched into the story, and Geralt felt the relief slough the pressure off his mind, settling for the rest of their journey.

"Well, I had long said that Valdo Marx was a foul and pompous sack of a man, and…"

\---

Yennefer had underestimated the journey by a few hours and they arrived well after dark. Geralt was used to powering through his own exhaustion, but the added mental strain and the weight of Jaskier’s own fatigue made him feel as if they had been traveling for a week. The thought that he now had to sit through what was surely to be an unnecessarily long tale of how his life had been newly fucked… 

The manor was of a modest size, and luckily for Roach, had a well kept and brightly lit stable. 

“I’ll get Roach settled in and meet you inside.”

He watched Jaskier glance back and forth between him and Yennefer, who had nodded her head and was making her way to the manor’s entrance. 

Geralt felt his uncertainty as they entered the stable.

“If you have something to say…”

Jaskier looked at him directly, face uncommonly serious, emotions quieted down.

“I would just… Whatever we discover from this, Geralt, I want you to know… well I’m sure you already know but…”

“Jaskier…”

“I’m not afraid of... this. I’m not afraid of what it may mean. If I had a choice… Geralt, I’ll always choose you, but I understand if that feeling is not mutual. I have seen up close exactly how much you loathe others telling you what you must do, or forcing you to accept the idea that you have no choice when faced with Destiny. I won’t make you choose, and I won’t hold any choice you do make against you.”

Geralt felt uncomfortably exposed, stripped a little raw by the words. He hmmed and turned his attention toward guiding Roach through the stable doors.

This… this wouldn’t be as easy to walk away from as the Child Surprise. Geralt had no idea if there was even any way to break whatever bond had formed between him and Jaskier, if he would even have a choice to make. He wondered for a moment if he was somehow at fault for it. If had he resisted the urges to touch, to have the man.... Would that have stopped it? He hadn’t given Yen a choice, binding her to his fate with his wish. Had he just done the same to Jaskier? The only two people who had... accepted him, who seemed to want things from him other than his monster-slaying skills, had he now ruined both of their lives by forcing them to be bound to him?

If he had thought he had experienced guilt after slaying Renfri, that had been a scratch compared to the current metaphorical disembowelment he was now feeling.

Jaskier had waited patiently as he had stood silently, but at the rapidly rising level of agony Geralt was imposing on himself, he made a soft, hurt sound, and closed the space between them. He reached out to touch the back of Geralt’s hand resting on Roach’s neck. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Before you go beating yourself up, Geralt, let’s hear what Istredd and Yennefer have to say. Perhaps there’s an easy answer to all of this.”

“I…”

“Let’s get Roach seen too and worry about the rest as it comes.”

“...Hmm.”

\---

Geralt easily went through the motions of removing Roach’s tack and combing her down, distracted enough that Jaskier felt like he had a second to breathe. He sorted through the belongings that Roach had been carrying, deciding what to bring with them inside and what could be left. They worked side by side in silence.

That had been...downright jeopardous of him just to outright tell Geralt how he felt. And then to try and absolve him of any responsibility or burden of choice... 

From waking Geralt out of his night terror to leaving the village for their current destination had all happened so very quickly that there had been no real time to truly consider the potential repercussions of it all. The long trek had provided almost too much time to reflect, too much opportunity to feel reality’s cold burn settle back in. They had both been able to get a handle on projecting their emotions and with a little coaching from Yennefer, had been able to at least restore some semblance of privacy to their own thoughts. They could actively seek each other out, but without intent or intensity of feeling, they would remain a faint presence in each others’ minds. They had settled into the bond quite naturally, for the time being.

Halfway through their journey, he had been struck that well, obviously up to that point Geralt had been able to see just as much into Jaskier’s head as the reverse, and it really wasn’t worth hiding much anymore. Jaskier was a man who found many things to love about a person, and never had reason before to try and censor his own feelings. The warm bloom he felt in his stomach when Geralt muttered something to Roach, thinking his companions wouldn’t hear him, or the clench of his heart as he saw Geralt’s mouth even hint at a smile, or tuck a strand of hair behind his ear… well, he was a completely open book. Heart on his sleeve, and all that. There was no more hiding the frankly embarrassing amount of affection he held for the man... if there ever had been. His behavior, his lyrics… not the most subtle.

More than fear of rejection, Jaskier was terrified that for all Geralt liked to talk about not being tied to anyone, he obviously truly did care for those he had formed any sort of relationship with and that he might make a martyr out of himself on Jaskier’s behalf. Jaskier would rather perish on the spot than be the source of any misguided attempts at nobility, would rather he remain a barely tolerated friend to Geralt than a heavy anchor around his neck, drowning him in purpose and obligation.

But by the gods, if Geralt even gave the vaguest hint that their bond was something he wanted… he would never leave the man’s side again. All the armies of the Northern Kingdoms couldn’t tear him away. Jaskier had spent plenty of time apart from Geralt over the past few years, life taking them in different directions, and he had been young and fresh-faced and looking for excitement. It wasn’t that he yearned dramatically for the witcher’s presence once-parted, but now, knowing he could have a permanent place in this man’s life… he was ready for that, now.

And he had thought that the hardest part of finding that place in Geralt’s life would be having to share him with Yennefer, but… the Yennefer of today was different, the sense of newly found freedom about her easing the tension that had been festering between them for years. She was a hard woman, unbowing and refusing to retreat from any battle. Jaskier had assumed she would have put up more of a fight… or any fight at all upon finding them clearly…. post-coital. If anything, she had seemed… relieved.

Jaskier had long since gathered up their things, hands idly skittering across the materials as he thought. He was only causing himself more anxiety trying to figure out the inner workings of these two, when without knowing what was happening at all was the bigger issue, and one he consistently had overlooked. Purposefully. Glancing up, he saw Geralt patting Roach’s side, clearly finished as well but not eager to leave the comfort and relative safety of the stables.

Both of their minds were in so much chaos that Jaskier could hardly separate who was feeling what as he reached out.

“Well, ah, I think we’ve probably spent a suspicious amount of time out here, perhaps it’s time to find our way inside?”

Geralt nodded and gave Roach a final head bump, and reached down to pick up the items next to Jaskier. 

He made fleeting eye contact with the man, and Jaskier could only tell at the last minute why the other man was feeling a sudden and terrible amount of discomfort.

“Geralt, don’t-”

“I’m not going to promise you anything. I can’t. But…”

“Don’t! Let’s-let’s go inside and hear-”

“Will you let me finish?”

“No! Because I’m afraid you’ll say something you can’t take back.”

And with that, Jaskier hugged his lute to his chest and stalked off towards the manor, forcing Geralt to follow him to avoid the pain of separation. Maybe not the most mature way to end that conversation, but better than having his heart torn from his chest before having an audience to his pain.

Feeling a little bit as if he was being pursued, he picked up his pace and followed the sound of voices as soon as he crossed the threshold. Surely if they were in front of the others, Geralt would lose the desire to speak openly or make any lengthy declarations about his feelings. Surely, if he could just prevent Geralt from saying anything now, he could just continue on in blissful ignorance for half an hour more…

Jaskier failed to account for the fact that he was being pursued by one of the Continent’s greatest predators.

Geralt caught him by the back of his jacket and tugged just hard enough to reel him back from the double doors he had been about to open. Foiled!

“Jaskier, you don’t need to treat me like some rabid dog about to bite. I am fully capable of having this conversation you seem to want to avoid.”

“No! No! I shall not listen to this! I will start making noise Geralt, so much noise, and it’ll attract attention and then Yennefer will come find us and give you that judgy, disappointed look-ah...yes, uncannily just like that, hello Yennefer!”

She had thrown open one of the doors and was looking at them with an unfair amount of long-suffering.

“By your leave, any time that you would like to find out what’s been done and how to fix it, we are patiently awaiting to be of service.”

Jaskier felt warmed somewhat by her familiar scathing tone.

“See, Geralt? We’re terribly inconvenienced poor Yennefer, who we know needs many, many hours of beauty sleep a night.”

“Something you clearly lacked last night. Come inside and sit down, let’s not draw this out any longer than it needs to be.”

Jaskier could feel Geralt’s frustration at being interrupted, but he let go of Jaskier and followed them into the room.

Someone had thoughtfully provided them with a meal, bowls of stew steaming on the table next to a crust of bread. A pitcher of what Jaskier hoped was ale sat next to two flagons.

Istredd stood, with dramatics far too obvious for Jaskier’s refined tastes, with his forearms draped over the back of the chair at the head of the table, watching them as they entered. Yennefer sat herself neatly into a seat at the center of the table and took a long draught of ale out of her own cup.

Jaskier almost lunged across the room to sit himself down and make himself seem busy attending to his meal, propping his lute up against the table. Geralt followed, his disgruntlement being made intentionally clear between the two of them.

Istredd cleared his throat loudly, and three sets of eyes turned toward him as Geralt eased his swords down next to Jaskier’s lute and dropped heavily into a chair that put him next to Jaskier and across from Yennefer. 

“Well, I supposed the best place to start is at the beginning. Many centuries ago-”

Jaskier couldn’t help himself.

“Oh this is going to be good, I can tell.”

Geralt dragged one hand down his face as Jaskier grinned wildly.

Istredd cleared his throat again, annoyed.

“As I was saying, many centuries ago, when humans first appeared after the Conjunction of the Spheres, they were especially vulnerable to the monsters that had also arrived. Before humans stole magic from the elves, before witchers were even a glimmer in Kaer Morhen’s eye, a certain breed of human emerged, seemingly evolved to defend their kind.”

Jaskier, Geralt and Yennefer were all helping themselves to the food in front of them, attempting to appear engaged in Istredd’s tale as they hungrily swallowed down the stew to varying degrees of success. Geralt actually wasn’t even trying at all, to be quite honest. 

The mage huffed in irritation, but continued on in the soporific tone that Jaskier had grown accustomed to from his professors at Oxenfurt. He had a specialized skill in being able to appear an attentive student while allowing his mind to wander. But given that the topic his mind wandered to was whatever Geralt had been trying to say… perhaps it best to turn a new leaf. 

“These humans appeared in pairs, neither sex nor age seemingly having anything to do with the solidity of the bond between them. The texts are not quite clear about how these people were matched, or how they found each other, just that once a permanent and lifelong bond was established, they became a powerful match for any of the threats that appeared in their world. One half of the pair was gifted with heightened senses and strength whom they named as ‘sentinels’, the other half gifted with the ability to help their partner master these, and to protect them from magical attacks, whom they called ‘guide’.”

Well, Jaskier saw where this was headed. He chanced a quick, sideways glance at Geralt, feeling a little apprehensive himself at the words ‘permanent and lifelong’. The man was chewing slowly, and neither looked nor felt surprised to find out he was some sort of preternatural breed of human. Well, after becoming a witcher, perhaps nothing surprised you anymore.

“The ruins that I had been excavating did not have an exhaustive collection of information regarding this phenomena, so some of what I will speak of is pure conjecture at this point. One of the last collection of writings detailed the creation of the first witchers. It seemed that they had no way of identifying those with the gift as prepubescents, but it was determined that was the optimal time to begin the training of the candidates. Those who survived the Trial of the Grasses were all of the gifted, and those who did not were considered acceptable losses. However, they quickly realized they were only discovering half of these bonded pairs, those with enhanced senses, the sentinels. And when the first boys completed the trials, almost all of them were lost once their gift was awakened by the stress. Without their other halves to help balance their senses, their emotions and to defend them from all monsters’ magic, they simply wasted away or died outright.”

Jaskier could sense the immense weight of Geralt’s sadness at the topic, and nudged his knee into the man’s thigh, hopefully conveying some level of comfort. Geralt lightly pushed his leg back against the contact. 

Istredd stared at them curiously, pausing for a moment. He pushed off from the chair and started pacing slightly as he continued his monologue. Yennefer had opened up one of the books that had been stacked at her seat, perusing the pages as if to verify Istredd’s story. The fact that Yennefer seemed to distrust the mage, even just a little, put Jaskier slightly on edge. 

“For reasons not elaborated on in my research, instead of searching out potential matches for their witcher candidates, they instead figured out ways to use chemicals and magic to replace the need for their other halves, and so the Trial of the Grasses came to be not only the introduction of the mutagen, but also to dull the senses, dull the emotions, and create an unnatural immunity to magic.” 

Jaskier had kept as quiet as he could for as long as he could.

“Do you think that perhaps the reason they did not seek out potential matches was because they assumed all of these so-called guides would be women? I ask because many of the ancient ballads I studied focus on stories of great heroics achieved by and star-crossed romances between a fated pair, and I don’t think I can recall a single one that wasn’t written about a man and a woman.”

Istredd was nodding before Jaskier even finished speaking.

“Yes, yes, quite exactly what I was thinking. Again as I said before, no mention of sex was made as a condition of the gifts manifesting in either partner, but those were more barbaric times and our ancestors seemed to separate out men only as warriors.”

Jaskier could see Yennefer making a face of disgust, and he had to agree. 

Geralt hmmed in agreement as well. 

A sinister thought entered Jaskier’s head and he voiced it before he could stop himself.

“Seems somewhat hypocritical, Istredd, to accuse our ancestors of such barbarism when you yourself assumed that Yennefer was Geralt’s other half.”

Istredd flushed in indignation.

“I did not think that Yenna was Geralt’s match because of her sex, but because they had already been bonded by Geralt’s final wish with the djinn.”

Yennefer snorted disdainfully.

“Istredd, I’ve known you for far too long. You absolutely assumed it was because I am a woman. You’re just lucky you have a reason to validate this shit otherwise.”

Geralt finally spoke, slowly and deliberately, quieting the other three immediately. 

“So you somehow figured out how to reverse whatever the Trials had done to me, knowing that it could lead to my immediate death not only from the outright threat of being overwhelmed by my senses, but also because if you did not find a match for me, I would die anyways? And assuming you did have a match for me, you had no plan to tell either of us of the unbreakable nature of the bond, therefore sentencing both myself and whoever I was bound to to a life together with no recourse? And you did this for… knowledge?”

Jaskier felt the temperature of the room drop to subzero. And yes- yes that was Geralt’s scary face. 

“You fucking sorcerers are all the same.”

Jaskier couldn’t quite tell if Geralt was actually on the precipice of terrible violence, or if he just greatly desired it, so he decided to intervene by placing a hand on his bicep. He realistically couldn’t physically hold the man back, but he could at least pretend to try.

“So then, if I’m understanding, Geralt is one of these sentinels, and you believe that I am his… match… a guide, did you call it?”

“Correct. Now, if I could just ask you both some questions about what you’ve been experiencing over the past-”

“Hang on, hang on, I don’t think we’re quite done with this tale yet. So, through some happy accident I happen to be part of this bond with Geralt, and somehow just happen to be travelling with him as you decide to act as the hand of fate with your little experiment and now what? Our fates have been sealed and...and what exactly are we supposed to do, from now on? Are we stuck only being able to be two feet from each other at any given time for the rest of our lives?”

“No, no, it seems like that should fade after the initial moment of bonding, you’ll be able to move freely in another few days or so. And I suppose, well, I didn’t quite think of the-”  
Jaskier sneered.

“You didn’t quite think of much, did you? What would you have done, if Geralt had died? There aren’t many witchers left, would you have just worked your way down the roster? How would you find their other halves if-”

Yennefer made a considering noise in the back of her throat.

“Once is an accident, twice a coincidence, but three times a pattern.”

Geralt huffed.

“Not you too, Yen. Speak plainly.”

“I’m merely pointing out that Jaskier is now the third person who’s fate has been tied to yours, Geralt. And now that I’ve mulled it over… you could say that Jaskier _guided_ you to Calanthe’s court, that he _guided_ you to me… well, I know your entire life has been one big Fuck You to Destiny, but I think Destiny’s decided to fuck you right back, whether you like it or not.”

Istredd stopped pacing and looked vastly more interested in the current conversation now that the ire had been directed away from him.

“Is that true? It seems so unlikely that it could all be coincidence. Somehow, the bond brought you together…”

Geralt abruptly rose, shoving back his chair violently and clenching his fists. Jaskier could feel his hot, hot fury.

“I didn’t ask for any of this. And fuck Destiny. I haven’t asked for either of you to be in my life, to depend on me for anything. And you, Istredd, have fucking ruined that.”

Istredd started to look vaguely worried, and turned to Yennefer for support. She ignored him in favor of addressing Geralt, for the first time her mouth twisting cruelly.

“How does it feel, Geralt, to have someone else decide your fate and bind you to someone without your own say-so?”

Geralt glared down at her, teeth clenched, but stayed silent, unable to argue the point she was trying to make. 

Jaskier felt like the room was teetering on the brink of utter destruction, a fight likely to break out from any quarter.

“How about we find out what Jaskier thinks about all of this, hmm? I’d like to point out that I’ve been affected too, by all of this, without any say-so on my end, and I’m managing quite well not losing my shit at anyone. Perhaps we all need to take a breath here, and get our heads out of our own asses.”

Three sets of eyes swung to look at him, but Jaskier lived for attention and wasn’t bothered by it at all. He’d had worse audiences in taverns. 

“Yes, that’s right, Yennefer, Geralt, you’re not the only ones _inconvenienced_ by it all. Seems as if I’m Destiny’s puppet as well, her hand shoved up my ass and making me dance as she wishes.”

\---

At Jaskier’s words, Geralt’s guilt and shame from earlier threatened to drag him down and consume him like a particularly hungry group of drowners. 

He’d been so concerned for a moment about his own life being spun out into chaos that he hadn’t spared a thought for Jaskier.

He could feel that underneath Jaskier’s sarcasm, there was a deep well of hurt.

Fuck.

He flexed his fists, and then forced himself to sit back down. Yennefer angrily looked back down at the book she was examining and began leafing through the pages again. Istredd hesitated, and then continued his pacing.

His senses seemed to have sharpened during the stress of potential conflict, and he could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat pounding in his chest. He could almost taste the pain he had inflicted with his own words, the fear of rejection an acrid scent.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as Jaskier turned back to finish off his meal and left them all chastened. 

Geralt poured himself a full measure of ale and drank half of it in one go, no longer sure he could manage this conversation fully sober. He had thought it difficult to balance the bond he had formed with Yennefer, and now he was faced with a second. A second bond, a second vulnerability to be exploited, a second person who could hurt him. Who he could hurt, by not being... enough. Whatever Istredd did had unlocked emotions he hadn’t felt in decades, but he was nowhere near ready to cope with all of them. Any of them. How could he expect these two to put up with that? He and Yennefer had an interminable amount of years sprawling out in front of them to navigate their relationship, and Jaskier…

His sudden devastation was so staggering that Jaskier dropped the spoon he had been bringing to his mouth and let out a wounded noise.

“Geralt, what-gods, what’s wrong? It feels like something just died, I feel sick with it, what…?”

“You.”

“Me? Me what?”

“You’ll… die. Long before I will, assuming some creature doesn’t best me. How will I… how can I survive that?”

Judging by the look on the bard’s face, he hadn’t yet considered the effect of his own mortality. Jaskier looked nauseated, eyes becoming wet as he blinked rapidly. His mouth opened and shut, but no words came out. He reached out a shaky hand towards Geralt, and he took it immediately, letting Jaskier twine their fingers for support.

Yennefer’s face softened slightly as she looked at them, and she moved with more purpose through the pages of the text. 

“I think I read earlier...yes, here it is. “Nothing but death may sever this bond. Among their many gifts, Sentinels are blessed with unnatural longevity, and upon the consummation of the bond, their Guide will see them through their long years.” I don’t want to give false hope, but it seems as if you’ve just granted Jaskier a hint of immortality.”

Geralt felt cautious relief from Jaskier, as the man took a few long swallows to clear his throat. He still seemed shaken and raw, but gave a feeble attempt at his signature theatrics.

“Well, Geralt, now you’ll truly never be rid of me. I know that it has been a secret wish of yours to be serenaded by my lovely voice day in, day out, and now your dreams have finally come true.”

Geralt hmmed softly, amusedly, and squeezed the man’s hand before letting go. 

He watched Jaskier look across the table at Yennefer, and offer an honest smile. 

“Geralt, you and I, then. The three of us against the world, forever and ever until the skies grow dim and the stars crash down into the earth.”

Yennefer seemed surprised at the implicit acceptance in his words, and offered a small smile in return. 

Geralt felt even more of a burden lift from his chest. Perhaps being bound to these two…

Istredd broke the intimate moment like a stone through a mirror, shattered shards tearing about the sense of peace that had been built.

“Well, actually, that raises a point-”

“Istredd, really man, read the room. We’ve just all been dragged through the gutter, no thanks to you for putting us in the shit, so let us have our moment here.”

“What I’m about to say, bard, has to do directly with the matter at hand.”

“Oh, well then, you know… carry on.”

“The bond, according to what I’ve read, has not yet been fully consummated.”

“Has it not? I mean, perhaps you missed the general sense of what had just occurred upon your arrival last night, but we surely consummated something.”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Jaskier-”

“I’m not talking about you being fucked by the witcher, I’m speaking of the mark he left on you that you have yet to leave on him.”

Geralt growled and sent a sharp glance at Istredd, not pleased at the mage’s derisiveness. His possessiveness also sprung to life, even the mere mention of fucking coming from the other man’s mouth making him want to throttle the breath out of him. And now that they had most of the information they need, truly what was stopping him?

He could feel both Jaskier and Yennefer look at him knowingly. 

Yennefer stood and strode quickly towards Istredd. Before he could react, she grasped him by the arm and began dragging him insistently towards the door. 

“I think you’ve officially overstayed your welcome here, Istredd. See yourself out and I’ll let you know if you can visit again tomorrow.”

Istredd opened his mouth to protest, and Yennefer pushed him through the threshold and slammed the door shut in his face. 

“Hear hear!”

Jaskier raised his flagon of ale in her direction and took a large sip, as if toasting a victory. 

“I think we’ve all just about reached our tolerance for this shit for one day. I’ve read enough that I can equip you with enough knowledge to get us all to tomorrow and we can deal with the rest of our fate then.”

“I’ll drink to that as well!” 

Jaskier took another long pull, and Geralt joined him, smirking.

“Firstly, Istredd was correct regarding the bond. Jaskier, you’ll have to return the favor of the bite, though maybe be a little more discreet about location that Geralt. I imagine he’ll try to use his terrifying new level of possessiveness as a reason, but we both know that’s horseshit and he’s always been a bit of a bastard.”

Geralt, not offended in the least, simply shrugged and ate the last of his stew. He eyed the mark sitting just at the edge of Jaskier’s collar. It had begun to darken, a harsh purple against his skin, and if he used his enhanced sight, he could see the shape of his own teeth imprinted. Jaskier’s hand reached toward his collar unthinkingly, and Geralt watched him realize where the impulse had come from. The man sent him a heated glance in return. Geralt was suddenly eager for this conversation to be over. 

“Secondly, and relatedly, and I say this with no small amount of amusement: your days of womanizing and brothel-patronizing are over, boys. You’ll be physically repulsed at touching anyone else in an intimate way for as long as your bond shall blah blah blah, you get the idea.”

Jaskier looked awkwardly between the two of them.

“Ah...well that’s- is that going to be a problem?”

Geralt was a little insulted.

“A problem? For me? You’re the one that’s been run out of every kingdom in the North for sticking your dick in every available hole.”

“Take that back! I have standards, Geralt, I have discerning and piquant tastes when it comes to bedfellows and I- ah, yes, right, this is still a dangerous topic for us.”

Geralt at least made a lame attempt at tamping down the jealousy that poured through his veins.

Jaskier’s own lame attempt to turn the conversation only made it worse.

“And besides, I was referring specifically to you and Yennefer, as you two have frequently… uh… shit…”

Yennefer laughed at the two of them, vibrantly and without an ounce of malice.

“I survived decades without Geralt’s cock before, I’m sure somehow I’ll find the will to go on without it now.”

“Yennefer, you absolute queen, I’ll be sure to keep it-”

“Jaskier, don’t finish that sentence.”

“Geralt, don’t be a prude. And show a little appreciation! Instead of settling down and marrying a beautiful woman and having many, many beautiful children, I can instead spend all of my considerable efforts on you alone.”

Geralt felt unsure.

“Children… Jaskier, did you want a family?”

Jaskier waved him off airily, and Geralt could feel through the bond that he felt no true sense of loss.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, Geralt. And besides, you can give me a child if I so desire.”

Geralt gazed at the man in disbelief. Yennefer looked equally bewildered.

“Jaskier, are you quite aware how sex between two men works?”

“Yes, thank you Yennefer, I think that’s a topic I’m very well acquainted with but what does that have to do with- fuck, no, no, nonononono! I was talking about the Child Surprise.”

Geralt almost spat out the mouthful of ale he had just drank. 

“Well that is certainly a topic for another time. The third and final item for now: you will need to continue to stay in close contact, as Istredd said. Tomorrow we can use some of these texts to determine some sort of way to help you manage the bond and all that goes with it, but for now just stay close. Shouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure. Especially as I’m sure you’re eager to go and… complete the bond.”

“If that’s all…?”

“Hmm.”

Now that the topic of sex had been raised again, Geralt’s mind had begun to wander. They were very nearly done with their long, weary trudge of exposition, and very nearly about to be alone, together. In a room. With a sturdy door between them and the world, and hopefully an even sturdier bed. He made zero effort to dull the arousal he was feeling and watched Jaskier squirm in impatience, feeding off him.

“Yes, well, I can see this conversation is now dead. Let me direct you to the room you may stay in. Coincidentally, my room will be on the complete opposite side of the manor, so don’t get in any sort of trouble you can’t get yourselves out of.”

They both stood, maybe a little too eagerly, Jaskier slinging his lute over one shoulder and Geralt collecting his swords. 

“Make two lefts, fourth door on your right. Geralt, leave him in one piece. Jaskier… good luck.”

With a faintly evil smirk, she swept out of the room.

Jaskier grinned crookedly at Geralt, and offered his hand, and obnoxiously batted his eyelashes.

“Let me take you to bed, oh other half of my soul?”

Geralt huffed and took the hand. He reeled Jaskier in by it, bringing them chest to chest. 

“I’ll take _you_ to bed.”

“Is that really necessary, Geralt? Absolutely not a single person is questioning-ah!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this is what you came for lads… 7K of Geralt dicking down Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a birthday gift from me to y'all :)

In truth, they did not even make it through the door before things got...heated. Jaskier had gotten Geralt’s shirt out of his trousers and eased his hands down the the seat of them to get a handful of Geralt’s ass, sighing happily, as they turned down the hallway to their room. He had his own jacket half-shrugged off before Geralt had even put a hand on the iron knob to the door, the strap of his lute preventing him from getting it off the other shoulder. 

“Should we- should we talk...about, you know, any of it? Should we-”

“Jaskier, why is it that you only ever want to _talk_? Haven’t we talked enough?”

“Well I- that is patently untrue! Slander! I want to fuck far more than I want to talk at this very moment.”

“Then stop talking about it and let me fuck you!”

Jaskier was so focused on getting his greedy hands on any bare skin that he barely noticed Geralt herding him through the door, but he immediately noticed it when the man pinned him to the cold stone next to the doorframe after he had set his swords aside. He let his lute slip to the floor, quickly followed by his jacket. 

“Ahhh! That is-”

Geralt wasted no time palming him through his trousers.

“Wait! Wait! We need to…”

Jaskier batted his hand away and caught his wrist when he immediately reached back.

“Just one thing… j-just one, small, tiny… Geralt, we’ve just essentially been...married, for lack of a better term-”

Geralt reared his head back and looked a little wild-eyed at that statement. Good, struck with proper fear like any man realizing his fate.

“Just tell me one thing: if you could have made a choice, would you have chosen me?”

Geralt’s lips thinned, and he titled Jaskier’s chin up.

“Yes.”

Jaskier’s arousal ripped through him, and they both moaned a little bit at the intensity. 

“Oh _go-_ ”

Geralt tugged Jaskier’s trousers down over his hips and let them pool at his ankles. He sank to his knees and got a solid grip around one thigh, other hand stroking Jasker to full hardness in a matter of moments. As he drew the head of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth, Jaskier slammed his head back into the wall and went cross-eyed. He stared hazily at the high stone ceilings, knowing if he looked down, there would be no stopping it. Geralt twined his tongue around the shaft and provided a heretofore unknown level of suction, using his free hand to tug on the bard’s balls and the base of his cock. The feedback through their bond amplified the sensation a thousandfold and Jaskier came abruptly, panting and speechless. He continued to stare at the ceiling in complete shock, trying to recruit even one single brain cell to form words. 

“Geralt, have you no care to let another man have his pride? You have no sense of-”

He looked down to see Geralt, still on his knees with an incredibly satisfied smirk on his face, casually stroking his own cock. 

Jaskier was struck speechless a second time. Geralt managed a few more strokes and came into his own hand. He reached the hand between Jaskier’s legs and rubbed it behind his balls all the way up to his asshole in one strong, smooth motion. He smeared his come a few more times along Jaskier’s thighs, then rose, and kissed Jaskier firmly. 

“Now we can take our time.”

Jaskier could feel his mouth trying to form words against Geralt’s chapped lips, but still nothing. His wits were still scattered to the four winds, no telling when they’d return. 

Geralt stepped back to pull his own shirt over his head, and tossed it vaguely off to the side of the room. He held his trousers up as he sat in a nearby chair to work his boots off first. Jaskier made small, grabby motions with his hands and took a step forward before realizing his own trousers were hopelessly tangled in his own boots, acting as a very effective hobble. He took a few ungainly hops and barely managed to catch his balance. 

He had no need to impress this man, they had seen each other in far less dignified circumstances, nor would Geralt be particularly wooed by any attempts of his typical seduction, so he simply sat his bare ass down on the rug beneath him and tugged both boots off with little finesse, kicking the trousers off hastily after. His own shirt followed after a brief battle with one of the sleeves.

When he looked up, Geralt was watching him with a bemused grin, and then stood and offered Jaskier a hand up. Jaskier popped up off the floor and leaned in to plant a brief kiss against Geralt’s smile. He drew back to look at the man’s openly pleased expression and couldn’t stop himself from going back in for another kiss. And another….and another…

He cupped Geralt’s jaw with both hands to ensure the man didn’t get any more wild ideas and try to break the perfectly enjoyable kiss. The man seemed in no hurry after ripping that first orgasm out of him, and simply rested his hands on Jaskier’s hips, fingers gently tracing the arc of the bone.

At the soft touch, and the feeling of Geralt’s come sliding down the inside of his thighs, Jaskier found his voice.

“Geralt, I want-”

“I know what you want.”

“No, but I-”

“Jaskier, I _know_ what you want. Even if I hadn’t been in your mind all day, your body and your mouth are telling the tale well enough. You’ve been greedy for it since I refused to fuck you raw last night, and now I know you’ve been greedy for it for years before that. If you can just hold yourself together a little while longer, I’ll fuck you exactly how you need it.”

Jaskier groaned and released Geralt’s face to wave his hands around to emphasize his words.

“Completely unbelievable. How dare you hold out on me all these years, Geralt? All that time we could have spent having the most incredible sex, wasted. You could have said any single sentence to me and I would have come so hard in my own trousers, I probably would have swooned at your feet.”

“Would you rather spend the next few hours berating me, or will you let me get on with it?”

“Geralt, you really don’t know me at all if you think I can’t handle both at the same time.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier poked one finger into Geralt’s shoulder, pushing him backwards towards the bed across the room. 

“What exactly is your plan here, Witcher? Do you have a plan? I have some suggestions you might like to entertain… I’d love to get my mouth on that cock, on your ass...any part of you, in fact...and...”

Jaskier had assumed that after years of dealing with Geralt using his intimidating presence, both physical and otherwise, to get people to do what he wanted had made him immune to the witcher’s tactic of the silent ‘stare down, move close’ play. He was completely unprepared for that tactic to be weaponized against him for sex. Geralt halted their movement merely by planting his feet and looking firmly at Jaskier. Without making any actual contact, Geralt leaned in, setting his mouth centimeters from Jaskier’s ear, the soft exhales sending shivers down Jaskier’s spine. He didn’t speak, didn’t make any further movements, just let his presence settle heavily around Jaskier. He heard the man inhale deeply, sampling his scent. 

“You are going to sit down on that bed and-”

“Let me guess, ‘and keep quiet?’”

“Interrupt me again and see what happens. And no, I don’t want you to keep quiet, Jaskier. I want to hear everything. Every biting comment, every quip, every line of song that strikes you, every moan, every sigh, every curse. I want you to tell me how much you love everything I do to you, how much you need it, how you feel you’ll die without it. Because I’ll know, but I want to hear it.”

Geralt pulled back to look into Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier felt unexpectedly exposed by the witcher’s words, as if somehow another layer of his being had been peeled back. He needed a moment…

“Geralt, you’ve already threatened to put me over your knee once, and I’ve already told you not to threaten me with a good time. And how about you take a seat on the bed.”

It was difficult to meet Geralt’s knowing gaze, but the man sat down on the edge of the bed with no protest. He planted his hands behind himself, feet flat on the floor and assumed the air of a man without a care in the world. His half hard cock, resting against one thick thigh, told a different story.

That Geralt had done what he asked without a single word of protest...intoxicating. How far could Jaskier take this easy compliance?

He stepped in towards the seated man, and guided him into a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Geralt allowed him to take the lead, and kept his hands on the bed behind him. He quickly grew frustrated. 

“Touch me, you cruel man!”

“Happily.”

Geralt hooked his hands around the back of Jaskier’s thighs and drew him forward, guiding one knee to the outside of each of his own hips. They were of a height, so neither had to crane their necks terribly to resume their kiss. Jaskier pulled him closer, threading his hands into Geralt’s thick hair. Geralt was running his fingers up and down the back of his legs, creating magnificent shivery sensations through all of his body, humming through the kiss...until Jaskier’s fingers caught in a massive tangle in Geralt’s hair. 

“Well, I certainly hope hair pulling is a kink of yours or that sort of puts a damper on things…”

Geralt huffed and brought his hands up to remove Jaskier’s. He then quickly worked the thong of fabric holding half of it back out of his hair, and gathered it all into one massive fistful. In an efficient movement he lashed the bit of fabric around his hair and let it settle into a pile on top of his head.

Jaskier could barely find his voice, overpowered with glee at the sight.

“How is it, in our many travels together, I have never ever ever ever seen you wear your hair in such a manner?”

“I only do it when I fuck - gets in the way otherwise. And I don’t really enjoy being yanked around by it like a pony.”

“Fair enough.”

Slightly mesmerized, he ran his fingers down the newly exposed skin on the back of Geralt’s neck. The man stiffened slightly, then relaxed into the touch and allowed Jaskier to explore. Fingertips traced from the thick muscles of his neck and shoulders, briefly dancing across the strong biceps and then skittering their way down Geralt’s tree-trunk-like torso. Yes, scars littered his skin but Jaskier had been there for many of them and wasn’t concerned with stories now. He was too busy gaining a newfound appreciation for how solid this man was, and how doubly incredible it was now that he got to freely touch him without the cover of a bath as reason. The light dusting of hair on his chest and abdomen wasn’t enough to hide the ridges of muscle that had been carved onto this man from a difficult life. As a man who had barely done what one might call an honest day’s labor, knowing that this body had been forged from years of hard work was… well let’s call a spade a spade, Jaskier was incredibly turned on by it. 

Geralt did not make a single effort to hurry Jaskier along, he seemed perfectly content to sit and be touched, resting his hands back on Jaskier’s thighs, holding him in place. 

“Do you plan on following through on your oath anytime soon, Geralt? Or are you just going to sit and make cow eyes at me for the rest of the night? I believe your exact words were “fuck you within an inch of your life” but I’m feeling incredibly hale and healthy at this moment, and not at all close to any sort of death.”

“You don’t need to goad me, Jaskier, I’m a man of my word.”

“Well, when you do decide to get started, let me know in case I miss it.”

Geralt swung Jaskier off his lap and rolled him onto his back on the bed. 

“I’m starting now.”

“Oh, excellent. You may want to start by attending to the mess you left earlier? Unless this is simply a side-effect of your new instincts, you great brute.”

“Jaskier, there will not be a day after this in our long future during which I will let you walk around not smelling like me. If you have objections, now would be the time.”

“No! Gods, no, Geralt, your fucking voice is a weapon.”

“Hmm.”

“Nooooo, even your stupid refusal to use words is more attractive now, this really could not be anymore of a tragedy for me.”

Geralt eased himself over the bard on all fours, Jaskier easily spreading his legs to accommodate him in his space.

“Your life is full of hardship, Jaskier.”

Geralt used one hand to tilt Jaskier’s head to the side, bringing his mouth softly to the bite mark he had left the night before. Jaskier cupped the back of his neck and held him to the skin, humming with pleasure as he hooked his calves around Geralt’s. A hedonist at heart, Jaskier simply loved the physical closeness with any of his partners.

“I am supposed to return the favor, you recall. To complete this bond.”

“I recall. But it’s probably going to cause another loss of control, like mine did. And I want to be fully in my right mind when I fuck you. I don’t want it to be because I can’t stop myself, I want it to be because I want it.”

\---

“Why, Geralt, have you been hiding this bleeding, romantic heart from me this whole time? That was pure poetry.”

DId this man truly never run out of things to say? And gods help him, why was that endearing now? Had it always been?

“I hadn’t realized poetry had so much to do with fucking.”

“Witcher, ALL poetry has to do with fucking. Poets simply drape the intent in finer words and call it art.”

Jaskier slid his arms around Geralt’s back and pulled him down to fully lie on top of him, and Geralt went easily. He liked the idea of his body between Jaskier and the rest of the world. Liked the idea of keeping him pinned, safe, underneath him.

Geralt set his teeth around the original mark. Even with the tiniest bit of pressure… 

“Oh, well, I guess we should have expected that.”

They were both fully hard within an instant, rubbing against each other’s groins artlessly. 

“Oh gods, alright, well I hope you really did have a plan here because I am fully ready for this second round.” 

Jaskier got two handfuls of Geralt’s ass and pressed up even harder against him. 

“Now would be the time to speak up and reassure me that you’ve procured some sort of lubrication for this, Geralt, because I am growing impatient.”

Geralt sighed into his neck.

“When are you not impatient?”

He kissed his way across the man’s collarbone, seemingly not feeling the same sense of urgency, and wrapped both hands around Jaskier’s chest, lightly thumbing his nipples.

“Yes, ahhh, that’s, that’s all well and good, oh no no need to rush please take your time, it’s not as if I’m only moments away from coming a second tiiiiiiiime!”

The man squirmed underneath him at each touch, rutting with a mindless determination.

Geralt push himself up and off the man, ignoring his whine of protest.

“That is the exact opposite of what I’ve asked, Geralt, come back and take responsibility for this!”

He slid his hands under the backs of the man’s knees and with very little effort, lifted his legs and hips up off the mattress, forcing the man to bear his own weight on his shoulders.

“What exactly do you think you’re ohhhhhh yes, alright, carry on, I-!”

Geralt rose up on his own knees and ran the tip of his nose along Jaskier’s inner thigh, smelling the strong scent of his own come already smeared across the man’s skin. He gritted his teeth and felt his own cock jump, slightly surprised at how fucking arousing it was. He hadn’t given it much thought as to why he did it early, mostly acting on instinct, but this, this was incredible.

“Get on with it, I don’t know how long I can manage to stay folded up like a pretzel here.”

“You’ll stay as long as I want you to stay.”

“Geraaaalt, fuck, enough with the growling, I’m going to come without you even laying another hand on me.”

“Then stop provoking me!”

Without letting the bard take enough breath to get another word in, he ran his tongue directly across the man’s asshole and wasted no time pressing against the pucker of muscle. The man was tight, Geralt had his work cut out for him.

Jaskier let out a long stream of moans and couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his limbs, having no leverage in any direction. All he could do was endure whatever Geralt gave him. He squeezed his thighs around the man’s head to hold him in place, trying to push his ass further onto his tongue.

Geralt pressed in deeper, dragging his tongue inside of Jaskier’s hole, encouraging it to relax any little bit. He could taste the remains of his own come across the skin as he ran the tip of his tongue around the pucker and took a long breath, both to enjoy the sensation and give him a chance to relax his grip on Jaskier’s legs.

Jaskier continued to let loose streams of nonsense, arms crossed over his head, hands gripping his own forearms and tossing his head back and forth as his cock grew heavier against his belly.

Once he started to feel the man’s asshole flutter and clench every time he withdrew his tongue, Geralt eased back and returned the man’s hips to the bed. He swung his own legs over the side of the bed, but remained seated.

“I don’t think you’re quite done down there, Geralt. A few minutes of toying with me is not nearly long enough preparation for that monster in your trousers.”

“Yes, thank you, I’m aware.”

Jaskier smirked and wiggled his hips provocatively. 

“So then…?”

Geralt reached out lightning fast and smacked the side of Jasker’s ass. The man laughed and rolled over to his stomach, looking back and daring Geralt with his eyes.

“There was quite a bit of talk about you taking me over your knee, Witcher.”

He delivered two sharp smacks, one to each asscheek, smiled at Jaskier’s exaggerated howls of offense and then rose to make his way to the small table near the bed. 

“Get back here and finish what you started! Geralt, you are an absolute ass, I swear, how I have had the misfortune of being shackled with such a tease and a- oh.”

Geralt had plucked a sizable bottle of oil from among the various odds and ends scattered on the table, and was waggling it condescendingly at Jaskier.

“How did you…?”

“I assume it was left for us by a...mysterious benefactor.”

“I will be sure to offer my thanks to her in the morning.”

Geralt returned to the bed, climbing over the man resting on his stomach, and placed a swift kiss to the side of his forehead. Jaskier smothered his smile into the mattress, pleased at the display of affection.

“So if I have your leave…?”

“Yes, yes, why waste your breath asking such an idiotic question? Have I not made my desires plain enough? Can I say it any more plainly than “Geralt, put your giant cock in my ass or I will surely expire before the night is over?”?”

“A please would have been nice.”

“A pl- you!!” 

Geralt was outright laughing at Jaskier’s expression of outrage. He reached for a pillow lying against the headboard and gently lifted Jaskier’s hips to prop him up. He gave a few strokes up and down the man’s cock just to watch him shiver at the unexpected touch. Jaskier sighed dramatically.

“If you wanted me to beg, Witcher, you needed to only have asked.”

Geralt popped the cork out of the bottle, pouring some of the liquid into his palm. He took a moment to rub his hands together, warming it. He reached out to run one slicked thumb over the man’s hole, feeling it tighten at the contact, while bracing his other hand on the back of Jaskier’s neck. He had been trying not to dwell on the thought that he would soon be inside that tight, tight ass, but now that it was so close...he could feel his blood start to pound in his ears, heat coursing through his body. He could feel sweat prickle at his temples and his lower back, his breathing growing heavy in anticipation.

“You know, Jaskier, I’ve gained somewhat of a reputation at many brothels for my preference for pleasing a woman with my mouth. And I do love it, I really do.” 

He pushed harder so that the tip of his thumb popped in past the furled muscle.

“But I think, even more, I like using my hands, my fingers, to stretch them and pleasure them through orgasm after orgasm. Do you know why?”

“Fffffffuck… enlighten me, Geralt...why?”

“Because I like telling them exactly what I’m going to do to them. I like feeling them clench down, without meaning to like you’re doing right now, as I tell them how I’m going to spread them open so wide that they’ll feel empty without me afterward.”

He pushed his thumb inwards and traced the inside of the rim, pressing out lightly to encourage the elasticity of the muscle as he did, leaving a slick trace of oil behind. 

“How wet they’ll be when I’m done with them, from the oil, their own juices, my come.”

He removed the digit and replaced it with his middle finger, pushing all the way in to the bottom knuckle in one smooth slide. He squeezed his other hand at the base of Jaskier’s skull.

“I tell them how good they feel around my fingers, how hard it will be not for me to lose control and leave marks on their skin.”

He withdrew his hand to coat more oil onto his fingers, and pushed back in. Jaskier exhaled shakily, but made no other noise, enthralled by Geralt’s narration.

“I tell them that they’ll never have cock as good as mine again, that no one will ever reach as deep or bring them pleasure as mine will.”

He pushed his ring finger in next to his middle, spreading them slightly to push against Jaskier’s clenching walls, curling them and dragging them down back towards his entrance.

“Usually, it’s just nonsense brought out in the heat of the moment while I fuck them. But now… Jaskier, now I’m telling you.”

He pushed his two fingers all the way in, spreading them as wide as he could, rotating them and increasing the pressure.

“I’m going to fuck you wide open. You’ll beg me to stay inside you, soft, even hours after we’ve both come, to stave off the emptiness I’ll leave behind.”

He withdrew until only his fingertips remained inside, and used his thumb to pull the rim slightly open, pouring oil directly into Jaskier. The man bucked his hips wildly, a steadily thread of “fucks” coming from his mouth in a chant.

“You’re going to be soaked, drenched by the end. You’ll feel the oil slicking your thighs as I pound into you, my come leaking down after.”

He continued to push his two fingers in and out, opening them at their deepest range, and thumbing the ring of muscle as he did.

“I will lose control, and I’ll spend the entire morning tomorrow exploring the imprints of my fingers and my teeth along your hips, your ass, your neck, and I’ll enjoy the days after that I get to watch them darken in color against your skin.”

He could feel the man getting looser with every pass of his fingers, and on the next inward thrust, he introduced his index finger as well. The third finger was a tight fit, but Jaskier’s response was only to let a high pitched whine come strangled out of his throat, and to start thrusting his own hips faster, grinding his cock into the silken pillow beneath him. 

“And Jaskier, I know you’ll never have a better cock than mine. You’ll spend the rest of your life desperate for it… but I'll be glad to give it to you. Every. Time.”

He punctuated his last few words with a few hard, deep thrusts, and finally felt his finger’s graze across the man’s prostate. He ran his middle finger over it once, twice, and felt Jaskier’s body convulse around his fingers. He could see the flush high on the man’s cheeks and down his neck, presumably spreading even further down to his chest. Jaskier seemed completely overcome by hearing Geralt’s voice murmur utter filth at him. 

“Geralt, I will promise you anything on this entire Continent if you will finally fuck me immediately.”

“I’m good for more than a few sloppy thrusts, Jaskier, but I think you need to come again before I’m in you.”

Jaskier sounded slightly panicked, his voice reaching to a higher pitch.

“What?! No. No! Geralt, listen, last night was a fluke, there is no way you can make me come now for a second time and continue with fucking me afterwards. No. It’s not possible! Are you listening to me? Geralt!”

Despite his words, Jaskier had not stopped grinding himself back onto Geralt’s fingers, nor from driving his cock into the fabric beneath him. Geralt suddenly, went from lightly tapping at his prostate to pressing down with all his strength against it. Every muscle in Jaskier’s body seized as he came, spilling all over the pillow and mattress beneath him.

“Oh gods, oh fuck, sweet shitting…”

The bard was swearing to himself in between huge, gasping breaths. Geralt eased his fingers out of the man’s ass and off his neck, and reached for the bottle of oil that had tilted precariously during Jaskier’s movements. 

He gave the man a moment to collect himself and poured another palmful of oil, this time applying it onto his own cock, heavy and eager in his hand. He stroked it a few times to provide a little relief to himself, staring at the man coated in sweat, panting in front of him and resting a palm on the back of his calf to ground him. 

“I hope you have a very good explanation as to why I’ve just come again and you have yet to follow through on all these promises and oaths.”

“I do have a very good explanation: we’re still not done.”

Jaskier pulled himself together quickly at that and propped himself up to whip around and look at Geralt.

“How can you possibly expect to have another go?! Geralt, you have drained me, wrung me out entirely. There is no way I can-”

Geralt reached forward to push the man’s asscheeks apart and test the rim of his asshole. Jaskier’s orgasm had relaxed his body even further, and though probably horrifically oversensitive, he could now take Geralt with little effort. 

Using the remaining oil he had on his hands, he spread them down the insides of the man’s thighs to reduce any friction once he was balls deep inside.

“Jaskier. I’m going to fuck you now. And it’s going to be everything I’ve promised.” 

He pulled the man onto his knees, guiding him with a grip around his waist, Jaskier almost absently pulling his own elbows under his chest to support him, while still protesting.

“I cannot… Geralt, you cannot just use me like some...I’ve only just come and I’m far too…”

Geralt dragged the man back towards him, his own knees pressed to the insides of Jaskier’s, cock brushing up against the man’s ass. He fit both thumbs into the hole and gave one last twist apart before gripping the base of his cock and guiding the head to the fluttering rim. Jaskier’s legs were trembling with fatigue after his second orgasm, barely holding him up.

“Fuck you, Geralt, that I still want it so badly even now. Are you waiting for me to beg? Fine! Please, Geralt, please fuck me. I’ve never needed anything in my entire existence the way I need for you to shove your giant dick inside me right at this very moment.”

With just the slightest pressure forward, the head of his cock popped back the ring of muscle, and it took every ounce of his self control to not simply drive the rest of the way in in one savage stroke. His grip tightened around the man’s waist, surely leaving the marks he had predicted, brutally imprinted on the man’s fair skin.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck- yes, fucking get in me, more Geralt, more…”

“How quickly you change your tune, bard.”

“I swear that if this is not the best cock of my life, I’m asking for a replacement in this bond.”

Despite having more control of the bond and the excessive level of possessiveness that went with it, that threat was still enough to trigger Geralt’s regular old excessive level of possessiveness. He pushed his cock halfway in aggressively, enjoying Jaskier’s almost melodic sound of surprise.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare, Jaskier.”

“Haha, no, _gods_ , I wouldn’t, but it really did get you to move a little faster.”

Geralt thought for a second about pulling out just to be spiteful, but in reality, there wasn’t a force in this world or any other that could remove him from Jaskier’s tight, hot clench before he finished thoroughly wrecking him. Instead he continued working his way in, small, incremental incursions from short thrusts and pulling Jaskier further back onto his cock. They were both sweating heavily by now, every touch and movement slickened by it. Geralt’s grip on the man hadn’t subsided, fingers digging in furiously to help him keep control.

When he was finally fully seated, they exhaled one long breath together. Geralt forced himself to relax his grip while Jaskier folded his forearms underneath his forehead. His words were unfocused, slurred, overwhelmed, frantic.

“Geralt, you’re so be fucking deep...I can taste you in the back of my throat. Every part of me is on fire, burning, I feel you everywhere. Fuck, you’re so big you’re just, I’m just...it’s too much, Geralt, it’s too much...”

“Take a breath, Jaskier. Breathe.”

“Oh yes, very helpful, how about you breathe when you’ve been split in two while still coming down off-”

Geralt didn’t thrust so much as roughly grinded his hips in a circle, just to see how much Jaskier could take. The man stuttered to a halt and made what almost sounded like a shriek stuck in the back of his throat. 

“Five thrusts, Jaskier, is what you’re going to get. Five long, slow, deep thrusts, and then I’m going to fuck every word you have out of you. And I don’t really need to hold back with you, do I? You don’t need to be gentled, coddled, or pampered. You want to be fucked so hard you feel it in your bones for days. You've spent years watching me take apart monsters in half a dozen blows, men in less than one, and as it turns out, you’ve just been waiting all this time for me to fuck you with every ounce of that strength.”

“Geralt, we are- we are going to have many conversations after this b-but we are _absolutely_ going to discuss this filthy mouth of yours and I’m going to make you swear to speak this way to me at every opportunity for the rest of our lives.”

“As you said, ‘don’t threaten me with a good time’.”

Geralt began his first long, slow backstroke, keeping the motion as smooth as he could. Jaskier’s body clutched at him, the copious amounts of oil used making it a slick slide. He paused with just the head inside, and then pushed back in, just as slowly, until his balls slapped against Jaskier’s ass.

“One.”

“Oh f-f-fuck!”

Matching his pace, he repeated the motion.

“Two.”

“Fuckfuckfuck Geralt, this is- this is.”

The third backstroke was just a hair faster, and he forced himself to stop and collect himself at the top. He dumped a good portion of the remainder of the oil along his cock to add a little more slick before he likely abandoned most of his sense and didn’t give it a thought again. He pushed back in, the oil dripping messily around Jaskier’s hole and down over his balls hanging between his legs.

“Three.”

Jaskier gave up trying to form any coherent words and just pushed his hips back as hard as he could.

He withdrew again, breathing heavily, feeling himself approaching the brink of his own control. Sank back in.

“Four.”

Jaskier made a helplessly overwhelmed sound that almost sent Geralt out of his mind. 

A final long, slow slide out and an excruciatingly long, slow slide back in. 

“Five.”

A pause. They both hovered right at the edge for a few seconds, just breathing. Jaskier turned to rest his one cheek on his arms so he could see Geralt out of one eye, iris entirely consumed by the deep black of his pupil.

“Well? Put your back into it, Geralt.”

Geralt bared his teeth. He pulled back sharply and, lunging his considerable body weight forward, fucked directly back in without a moment for Jaskier to gather himself. 

Jaskier’s arms flew out from under his cheek as he reached to grab anything to hold on to, ending up twisted into the sheets as he tried to anchor himself against Geralt’s thrusts.

Geralt used his own knees to nudge Jaskier’s further apart, forcing him to feel more widely spread open. He leaned forward to press a short kiss in the center of the man’s spine.

“Did I not just tell you to put your back into it? And here I thought witchers were supposed to have the strength of three men.”

Geralt hated that he was so easily goaded now, but as wildly aroused and single-minded as he was, all he wanted was to prove Jaskier’s taunts wrong. He changed over to shorter, faster thrusts, snapping and curling his hips forward to punch just that little bit deeper inside. He trailed small bites and nips across the wing of Jaskier’s shoulders, worrying patches of skin into redness as he passed.

“Oh shit, Geralt, yes, theretherethere, fuck you’re fucking incredible…”

“Think you can come again now?”

“Fuck off you know fully well that my cock is as hard right now as if I hadn’t gotten off in weeks.”

Geralt could not truly recall a time he had felt so smug in his life. 

His hard, rough thrusts were bringing himself closer to the edge faster than he would have liked. He buried himself deep, and then sat back against the headboard, bringing Jaskier with him onto his lap. Jaskier made a surprised sound at the change in position, but adapted easily by grinding down with his new leverage. Geralt easily lifted Jaskier’s legs to slide both of his under and in front of him, and then settled the man’s shins on the outside of each hip. He bent his own knees and planted his feet on the bed, and Jaskier immediately braced himself with one hand against each of Geralt’s massive thighs. Geralt slid his arms around Jaskier’s torso, one hand travelling upward to stroke his chest and one downward to lightly circle the base of the man’s cock. Jaskier groaned and bounced himself frantically up and down on Geralt’s cock, greedy for any stimulation. His head dropped forward as he gasped.

“I wish there were a mirror, Jaskier, so you could see how fucking furiously you’re working yourself on my cock. How wide you’re spread around me, how your legs are shaking just from trying to move yourself just inches up so you can sit back onto my cock and feel me reach deeper every time.”

“S-s-s-shut up, shut up! Fuck, I’m going to come if you don’t stop talking.”

Geralt leaned back against the headboard and thrust upwards on Jaskier’s next downward slide.

“Then come.”

“Not yeeeet. I’m not...we’re not…”

Using the arm wrapped around the man’s chest, Geralt guided the man back against him, thrusting his hips faster and faster. Jaskier’s head flopped back onto Geralt’s shoulder as his legs gave out, unable to support him any longer.

“Finish it, Jaskier.”

“W-what?”

“Finish it. Leave your mark on me, complete the bond.”

Jaskier stared up at Geralt for a moment and craned his neck up to capture the man’s mouth in a kiss. Geralt returned it hungrily, allowing Jaskier to push his tongue into his mouth and suck eagerly against his lips. He collected some of the fluids from Jaskier’s thighs and started stroking his cock in earnest. Jaskier moaned into the kiss, inspiring even stronger thrusts from Geralt. Without needing further prompting, he broke the kiss and dug his teeth into the base of Geralt’s neck.

Geralt’s hips jerked through a dozen frenzied thrusts and they both came almost simultaneously, the bond flooding past the boundaries Yennefer had helped them construct. Geralt felt himself holding on to the other man with so much strength he almost squeezed every ounce of air out of him. 

Jaskier then fully collapsed back onto Geralt’s body, quite comfortably cradled by the man and internally examining everything they were both feeling as the roaring faded out of his ears and the lights stopped sparking in front of his eyes 

Geralt straightened out both his legs, and wound his other arm around the man, not even a little mindful of the mess of come covering his hand. He could feel his own satisfied afterglow multiplied and refracted back to him a million times through Jaskier, and just took a moment to bask in it. 

Jaskier unwound both of his legs to flop them outside Geralt’s, making no effort to remove himself from the man’s softening cock. Geralt smiled to himself and buried his nose into the man’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of their sex and their bond, almost overpowered by the strength of it all. He ran his hand down to trace a finger around the rim of Jaskier’s still full asshole, feeling his own come trickling out as Jaskier’s muscles tightened almost involuntarily, trying to keep him inside.

“It should be impossible for one man to feel so much self-satisfaction. If you hadn’t fucked the life out of me, I would punch your smug face in. You are an absolute cad, Geralt.”

“How is it possible you have any energy at all to complain? Stop ruining my afterglow.”

“Hmmm, well, yes, that was was rather magnificent wasn’t it? I’ll be lucky if I can walk in the morning. You’ll just have to bear with me, Geralt, and cater to my every need. You can start by bringing me some water, I am absolutely parched.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, and shifted to wrap both his hands around Jaskier’s ribcage and began to lift him off.

“Ahhh, you know what? No need to-no need to attend to that now, why don’t we just relax a little while longer.”

Geralt let the man’s weight sink back on top of him, soft cock still resting inside of Jaskier. Jaskier wiggled a bit to find a more comfortable position, and settled in. He felt the man’s hands reach up as Jaskier felt blindly around Geralt’s head until they reached his hair, and then cleverly tugged the strap holding it up free. His hair cascaded down around both their heads, immediately sticking to their sweaty skin. Geralt contentedly ran his hands up and down the man’s sides.

“Well… you’ll be pleased to know… that was without a doubt the best cock of my life.”

Geralt hmmed in quiet amusement. 

“And Geralt, I… thank you. For… for choosing me, in the way that you could.”

Geralt closed his eyes, letting his senses become fully immersed in the other man.

“And I, for one, cannot wait to hear the type of vows you might come up with-”

Geralt leaned in to playfully bite at the cap of the man’s exposed shoulder and poke his sides, causing Jaskier to abandon his words for ticklish laughter.

“If you like that, just wait for the song I’m going to- Geralt!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be more to come in this universe! I have ideas about everythiiiiiiing


End file.
